A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE 
IN  MEXICO 


2-./7.Z?. 


(jt  tut  fltCOlOflifltf 

PRINCETON,  N.  J. 


Sj 


% 


% 


Purchased  by  the  Hamill  Missionary  Fund. 


Division 


F 1234- 
.083 


Section 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2016 


https://archive.org/details/diplomatswifeinm00osha_0 


MRS.  NELSON  o’SHAUGHNESSY 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE 
IN  MEXICO 

CCD  1 

Va 

BY 

EDITH  O’SHAUGHNESSY 

[MRS.  NELSON  O’SHAUGHNESSY] 


Letters  from  the  American  Embassy  at  Mexico 
City,  covering  the  dramatic  period  between 
October  8th , 1913 , and  the  breaking  off  of  dip- 
lomatic relations  on  April  23rd,  1914,  together 
with  an  account  of  the  occupation  of  V era  Cruz 


ILLUSTRATED 


HARPER  & BROTHERS  PUBLISHERS 

NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 


A Diplomat's  Wife  in  Mexico 

Copyright,  1916,  by  Harper  & Brothers 
Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 
Published  June,  1916 


A-u 


CONTENTS 


Foreword 


ix 


I 

Arrival  at  Vera  Cruz — Mr.  Lind  — Visits  to  the  battle -ships  — Wc 
reach  Mexico  City  — Huerta’s  second  coup  d’ttat  — A six -hour 
Reception  at  the  Chinese  Legation.  An  all-afternoon  hunt  for  the 
Dictator Page  i 


II 

Sanctuary  to  Bonilla — Sir  Lionel  and  Lady  Carden — Carranza — Mexican 
servants — First  Reception  at  the  American  Embassy — Huerta  receives 
the  Diplomatic  Corps — Election  Day  and  a few  surprises.  Page  14 

III 

Federal  and  Rebel  excesses  in  the  north — Some  aspects  of  social  life — 
Mexico’s  inner  circle — Huerta’s  growing  difficulties — Rabago — The 
“Feast  of  the  Dead.” — Indian  booths  at  the  Alameda — The  Latin- 
American’s  future Page  28 


IV 

The  “ Abrazo  ” — Arrival  of  Mr.  Lind  — Delicate  negotiations  in  prog- 
ress— Luncheon  at  the  German  Legation — Excitement  about  the 
bull-fight  — Junk-hunting  — Americans  in  prison  — Another  “big 
game”  hunt Page  40 


V 

Uncertain  days — The  friendly  offices  of  diplomats — A side-light  on  ex- 
ecutions— Mexican  street  cries — Garza  Aldape  resigns — First  official 
Reception  at  Chapul tepee  Castle — The  jewels  of  Cort6s  . Page  50 


CONTENTS 


VI 

“Decisive  word”  from  Washington — A passing  scare — Conscription’s 
terrors — Thanksgiving — The  rebel  advance — Sir  Christopher  Cradock 
— Huerta’s  hospitable  waste-paper  basket Page  66 

VII 

Huerta  visits  the  Jockey  Club — Chihuahua  falls — “The  tragic  ten  days” 
— Exhibition  of  gunnery  in  the  public  streets — Mexico’s  “potential 
Presidents” — "The  Tiger  of  the  North.” Page  77 

VIII 

The  sad  exodus  from  Chihuahua — Archbishop  Mendoza — Fiat  money — 
Villa’s  growing  activities — Indian  stoicism — Another  Chapultepec  Re- 
ception— A day  of  “Mexican  Magic”  in  the  country  . . Page  92 

IX 

Christmas — The  strangling  of  a country — de  la  Barra — The  “ manana 
game  ” — Spanish  in  five  phrases — Senora  Huerta’s  great  diamond — The 
peon’s  desperate  situation  in  a land  tom  by  revolutions  . Page  1 10 

X 

New-Year’s  receptions — Churubusco — Memories  of  Carlota — Rape  of  the 
Morelos  women — Mexico’s  excuse  for  the  murder  of  an  American  cit- 
izen— A visit  to  the  floating  gardens  of  Xochimilco  . . Page  120 

XI 

Dramatic  values  at  Vera  Cruz — Visits  to  the  battle-ships — Our  superb 
hospital-ship,  the  Solace — Admiral  Cradock’s  flag -ship — An  American 
sailor’s  menu — Three  “square  meals”  a day — Travel  in  revolutionary 
Mexico Page  132 


XII 

Ojinaga  evacuated  — Tepozotlan’s  beautiful  old  church  and  convent 
— Azcapotzalco — A Mexican  christening  — The  release  of  Vera 
Estanol — Nccaxa — The  friars  — The  wonderful  Garcia  Pimentel 
library Page  148 


CONTENTS 

XIII 

Gamboa  — Ffites  for  the  Japanese  officers  — The  Pius  Fund  — The 
Toluca  road — Brown,  of  the  National  Railways — President  Wilson 
raises  the  embargo  on  arms  and  ammunition  — Hunting  for 
Zapatistas Page  167 


XIV 

A "neat  little  haul”  for  brigands — Tea  at  San  Angel — A picnic  and  a 
burning  village — The  lesson  of  “Two  Fools" — Austria-Hungary’s  new 
minister — Cigarettes  in  the  making — Zapata’s  message  . Page  18 1 

XV 

Departure  of  the  British  minister — Guns  and  marines  from  Vera  Cruz — 
Review  at  the  Condesa — Mister  Lind — The  Benton  case — Huerta 
predicts  intervention — Villa  at  Chihuahua Page  189 

XVI 

Huerta’s  impressive  review  for  the  special  correspondents — The  Grito  de 
Dolores — Tons  of  “ stationery  ” for  the  Embassy — Villa  and  Carranza 
disagree — The  Embassy  guard  finds  itself  occupied  . . Page  203 

XVII 

The  torture  of  Terrazas — Mexico’s  banking  eccentricities — Departure 
of  the  Lefaivres — Zapatista  methods — Gustavo  Madero’s  death — 
First  experience  of  Latin-American  revolutions — Huerta’s  witty 
speech Page  21 1 


XVIII 

Back  to  Vera  Cruz — Luncheon  on  the  Chester — San  Juan’s  prison  horrors 
— Tea  on  the  Mayflower — The  ministry  of  war  and  the  commissary 
methods — Torreon  falls  again? — Don  Eduardo  Iturbide  , Page  229 

XIX 

Congress  meets  without  the  United  States  representative  — Huerta 
makes  his  "profession  of  faith" — Exit  Mr.  Lind — Ryan  leaves  for 
the  front  — French  and  German  military  attachSs  — The  Jockey 
Club Page  247 


CONTENTS 


XX 

Good  Friday  — Mexican  toys  with  symbolic  sounds — “The  Tampico 
incident” — Sabado  de  Gloria  and  Easter — An  international  photo- 
graph— The  last  reception  at  Chapultepec Page  257 

XXI 

Mr.  Bryan  declines  the  kindly  offices  of  The  Hague — More  Americans 
leave  Mexico  City — Lieutenant  Rowan  arrives — Guarding  the  Em- 
bassy— Elim  keeps  within  call Page  272 

XXII 

Vera  Cruz  taken — Anti-American  demonstrations — Refugees  at  the  Em- 
bassy— A long  line  of  visitors — A dramatic  incident  in  the  cable-office — 
Huerta  makes  his  first  and  last  call  at  the  Embassy  . . Page  285 

XXIII 

The  wedding  of  President  Huerta’s  son — Departure  from  the  Embassy — 
Huerta’s  royal  accommodations — The  journey  down  to  Vera  Cruz — 
The  white  flag  of  truce — We  reach  the  American  lines  . Page  298 

XXIV 

Dinner  on  the  Essex — The  last  fight  of  Mexico’s  naval  cadets — American 
heroes — End  of  the  Tampico  incident — Relief  for  the  starving  at  San 
Juan  Ulua — Admiral  Fletcher’s  greatest  work  ....  Page  318 

XXV 

Our  recall  from  Mexican  soil  — A historic  dinner  with  General 
Funston  — The  navy  turns  over  the  town  of  Vera  Cruz  to  the 
army — The  march  of  the  six  thousand  blue- jackets — Evening  on 
the  Minnesota  Page  338 


XXVI 

Homeward  bound — Dead  to  the  world  in  Sarah  Bernhardt’s  luxurious 
cabin — Admiral  Badger’s  farewell — “The  Father  of  Waters” — Mr. 
Bryan’s  earnest  message — Arrival  at  Washington — Adelantel 

Page  348 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Mrs.  Nelson  O’Shaughnessy Fromispuct 

A View  of  Popocatepetl  and  Iztaccihuatl  ....  Facing  p-  6 

Mrs.  Elliott  Coues “ 16 

Elim “ 16 

V.  Huerta “ 60 

Villa  de  Guadalupe “ 86 

The  Floating  Gardens  of  Xochimilco “ 126 

Admiral  Sir  Christopher  Cradock “ 136 

Admiral  F.  F.  Fletcher “ 136 

Huerta’s  Soldiers  Watching  the  Rebel  Advance  . . “ 150 

A Group  of  Ojinaga  Refugees “ 150 

The  Guard  that  Stopped  Us “ 172 

“The  Woman  in  White” — from  San  Juan  Hill  ...  “ 182 

The  “Diggings”  (Azcapotzalco)  “ 206 

The  Pyramid  of  San  Juan  Teotihuacan “ 206 

The  Siesta  “ 258 


FOREWORD 


Though  the  events  recorded  in  these  letters  are  known 
to  all  the  world,  they  may,  perhaps,  take  on  another  sig- 
nificance seen  through  the  eyes  of  one  who  has  loved 
Mexico  for  her  beauty  and  wept  for  the  disasters  that 
have  overtaken  her. 

The  time  has  not  yet  come  for  a full  history  of  the 
events  leading  to  the  breaking  off  of  diplomatic  rela- 
tions, but  after  much  pondering  I have  decided  to  pub- 
lish these  letters.  They  were  written  to  my  mother, 
day  by  day,  after  a habit  of  long  years,  to  console  both 
her  and  me  for  separation,  and  without  any  thought  of 
publication.  In  spite  of  necessary  omissions  they  may 
throw  some  light  on  the  difficulties  of  the  Mexican  situ- 
ation, which  we  have  made  our  own,  and  which  every 
American  wishes  to  see  solved  in  a way  that  will  testify 
to  the  persistence  of  those  qualities  that  made  us  great. 

Victoriano  Huerta,  the  central  figure  of  these  letters, 
is  dead,  and  many  with  him;  but  the  tragedy  of  the 
nation  still  goes  on.  So  above  all  thought  of  party  or 
personal  expediency,  and  because  of  vital  issues  yet  to 
be  decided,  I offer  this  simple  chronicle.  The  Mexican 
book  is  still  open,  the  pages  just  turned  are  crumpled 
and  ensanguined.  New  and  momentous  chapters  for 
us  and  for  Mexico  are  being  written  and  I should  be 
forever  regretful  had  courage  failed  me  to  write  my  little 
share. 

It  is  two  years  ago  to-day  that  diplomatic  relations 


FOREWORD 


were  broken  off  between  the  two  republics.  It  is  more 
than  two  years  since  the  Constitutionalists  under  Villa 
and  Carranza  have  had  our  full  moral  and  material 
support.  The  results  have  been  a punitive  expedition 
sent  into  Mexico  to  capture  Villa,  and  very  uncertain 
and  unsatisfactory  relations  with  the  hostile  de  facto 
government  under  Carranza.  As  for  beautiful  Mexico — 
her  industries  are  dead,  her  lands  laid  waste,  her  sons 
and  daughters  are  in  exile,  or  starving  in  the  “treasure- 
house  of  the  world.”  What  I here  give  forth — and  the 
giving  is  not  easy — I offer  only  with  a trembling  hope 
of  service. 

Edith  Coues  O’Shaughnessy. 


The  Plaza, 

New  York,  April  23,  1916. 


/ 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN 
MEXICO 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN 
MEXICO 

i 

Arrival  at  Vera  Cruz — Mr.  Lind — Visits  to  the  battle-ships — We  reach 
Mexico  City — Huerta’s  second  coup  d'etat — A six -hour  Reception  at 
the  Chinese  Legation.  An  all-afternoon  hunt  for  the  Dictator. 

Mexico  City,  October  8,  1913. 

PRECIOUS  Mother, — You  will  have  seen  by  the 
cable  flashes  in  your  Paris  Herald  that  Elim  and 
I arrived  at  Vera  Cruz  yesterday,  safe  and  sound,  and 
departed  the  same  evening  for  the  heights  in  the  presiden- 
tial car,  put  at  N.’s  disposal  the  night  before,  for  the  trip 
from  Mexico  City  and  back. 

It  was  a long  day.  Everybody  was  up  at  dawn,  walk- 
ing about  the  deck  or  hanging  over  the  sides  of  the  ship, 
all  a bit  restless  at  the  thought  of  the  Mexican  uncer- 
tainties which  we  were  so  soon  to  share.  About  six 
o’clock  we  began  to  distinguish  the  spires  of  Vera  Cruz 
— the  peak  of  Orizaba,  rivaling  the  loveliest  pictures  of 
Fujiyama,  showing  its  opal  head  above  a bank  of  dark, 
sultry  clouds.  A hot,  gray  sea  was  breaking  over  the 
reefs  at  the  mouth  of  the  harbor,  and  the  same  lonely 
palms  stood  on  the  Isla  de  los  Sacrificios.  As  we  passed 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


between  the  two  gray  battle-ships  just  outside  the  har- 
bor, I could  not  help  a little  shudder  at  the  note  of  warn- 
ing they  struck.  The  dock  was  crowded  with  the  well- 
remembered,  picturesque,  white-clad  Indians,  with  high- 
peaked  hats,  who  suggested  immediately  the  changeless 
mystery  of  Mexico. 

Fortunately,  the  weather  being  overcast,  the  intense 
heat  was  a little  modified,  though  it  was  no  day  to  set 
off  looks  or  clothes;  every  one’s  face  and  garments  were 
gray  and  limp.  N.  arrived  just  as  we  were  getting  up 
to  the  docks,  his  train  having  been  late.  His  face  was 
the  last  we  discovered  among  various  officials  coming  and 
going  during  the  irksome  pulling  in  of  the  Espagne. 
As  you  know,  we  had  been  separated  for  eight  months. 
I was  the  first  passenger  to  leave  the  ship,  and  as  we 
had  no  customs  formalities  we  passed  quickly  through 
the  damp,  boiler-like  shed  where  the  little  tricks  of  the 
aduana  (the  customs)  were  about  to  be  performed 
on  hot  and  excited  voyagers.  Then  we  got  into  a rickety 
cab,  its  back  flap  flying  to  the  breeze,  and  drove  across 
the  sandy,  scrubby  stretch  to  the  Hotel  Terminus, 
where  the  Linds  are  living.  The  fascinating  little  pink 
houses  with  their  coquettish  green  balconies  were  as  of 
yore,  but  the  tropical  glint  and  glitter  seemed  gone  from 
everything  under  the  hot,  gray  sky. 

The  Hotel  Terminus  is  the  same  old  horror  of  flies, 
fleas,  and  general  shiftlessness,  though  the  broad,  high 
corridor  up-stairs,  giving  on  to  the  sleeping-rooms,  was 
fairly  clean.  We  were  finally  shown  into  a large  room, 
where  Mrs.  Lind  was  waiting.  After  our  greetings  I 
sank  into  a rocking-chair,  and  a big  electric  fan,  in  con- 
junction with  the  breeze  from  the  window  looking  tow- 
ard the  sea,  somewhat  restored  my  energy. 

In  a few  minutes  Mr.  Lind  appeared,  in  shirt-sleeves 
and  a panama  fan.  (I  suppose  he  wore  other  articles, 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


but  these  are  what  I remember.)  I was  greatly  struck 
by  him.  He  is  evidently  a man  of  many  natural  abilities 
and  much  magnetism — tall,  gaunt,  sandy-haired,  un- 
mistakably Scandinavian,  with  the  blue,  blue  eyes  of  the 
Norsemen  set  under  level  brows.  I imagine  fire  behind 
that  northern  facade.  The  conversation  opened  with 
conciliatory  and  smiling  remarks,  after  the  manner  of 
experts  in  any  situation,  meeting  for  the  first  time.  I 
found  him  very  agreeable.  There  was  even  something 
Lincolnesque  in  his  look  and  bearing,  but  his  entry  on 
the  Mexican  stage  was  certainly  abrupt,  and  the  setting 
completely  unfamiliar,  so  some  very  natural  barking  of 
the  shins  has  been  the  result.  Looking  at  him,  I couldn’t 
help  thinking  of  “the  pouring  of  new  wine  into  old 
bottles  ” and  all  the  rest  of  the  scriptural  text. 

The  Linds,  who  have  a handsome  house  in  Minneapo- 
lis and  another  “on  the  lake,”  are  accepting  things  as 
they  find  them,  with  an  air  of  “all  for  the  good  of  the 
United  States  and  the  chastising  of  Mexico.”  But  all  the 
same,  it  is  a hardship  to  inhabit  the  Terminus  and  then 
to  tramp  three  times  a day  through  the  broiling  streets 
to  another  hotel  for  very  questionable  food. 

The  Hotel  Diligencias,  where  we  lunched,  is  deeper 
in  the  town,  has  fewer  flies,  is  a little  cleaner,  and  is  very 
much  hotter.  Once  away  from  the  sea  breeze  you  might 
as  well  be  in  Hades  as  in  Vera  Cruz  on  a day  like  yes- 
terday. The  Diligencias  is  the  hotel  whereon  De  Cham- 
brun  hangs  the  famous  story  of  his  wife’s  maid  going 
back  for  something  that  had  been  forgotten,  and  finding 
that  the  servants  had  whisked  the  sheets  off  the  beds 
and  were  ironing  them  out  on  the  floor  for  the  next  com- 
ers— sans  autre  forme  de  prods!  We  had  a pleasant 
lunch,  with  the  familiar  menu  of  Huachinango,  polio 
y arroz,  alligator  pears  and  tepid  ice  - cream,  con- 
sumed to  the  accompaniment  of  suppositions  regarding 

3 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


Mexican  politics.  Then  we  plunged  into  the  deserted, 
burning  street  (all  decent  folk  were  at  the  business  of  the 
siesta)  and  back  to  the  Hotel  Terminus,  feeling  much  the 
worse  for  wear. 

At  four  o’clock  Lieutenant  Courts  came  to  conduct 
us  to  the  flagship  Louisiana,  and  we  asked  Hohler,  the 
British  charge  who  was  in  Vera  Cruz  awaiting  the  ar- 
rival of  Sir  Lionel  and  Lady  Carden,  to  go  writh  us. 
Admiral  Fletcher  and  his  officers  were  waiting  for  Nelson 
at  the  gangway  and  the  band  was  playing  the  beloved 
air  as  we  went  up.  We  were  there  about  an  hour,  which 
seemed  all  too  short,  sitting  on  the  spotless  deck,  where 
a delightful  breeze  was  blowing.  The  time  passed  in 
eager  conversation  about  the  situation  with  Admiral 
Fletcher,  a charming  and  clever  man,  with  dark,  earnest 
eyes  and  serious,  intent  expression,  all  set  off  by  the 
most  immaculate  white  attire.  Champagne  was  poured, 
healths  were  drunk,  and  Elim  was  taken  over  the  ship, 
departing  with  one  of  the  junior  officers,  after  a glance 
at  me  betokening  the  magnitude  of  the  adventure. 
We  left,  after  warm  handshakings  and  good  wishes,  N. 
receiving  his  eleven  salutes  as  we  went  away.  The  tears 
came  to  my  eyes.  “Oh,  land  of  mine!”  I thought.  “Oh, 
brotherhood!”  But  Elim  asked,  in  a frightened  tone, 
“Why  are  they  shooting  at  papa?” 

We  then  went  over  to  the  New  Hampshire  to  call  on 
Captain  Oliver.  More  health-drinking  and  stirring  of 
friendly  feelings.  Pictures  of  the  Holy  Father  and  prel- 
ates I have  known  gave  a familiar  note  to  Captain  Oli- 
ver’s quarters.  Then,  in  the  wondrous  tropical  dusk,  the 
little  launch  steamed  quickly  back  to  town,  where  we 
had  just  time  to  gather  up  our  belongings  and  maid  at 
the  Terminus  and  descend  to  the  station  beneath.  Mr. 
Lind  stood  waving  farewell  as  we  steamed  out,  and  I 
must  say  I am  quite  taken  by  him! 

4 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


Our  train,  preceded  by  a military  train,  was  most 
luxurious.  None  of  “the  comforts  of  home’’  was  lack- 
ing, from  the  full  American  bill  of  fare  to  the  white- 
coated  colored  porters — all  at  poor,  bankrupt  Huerta’s 
expense.  It  made  me  eat  abstemiously  and  sit  lightly! 

We  had  a quiet  night,  rising  swiftly  up  those  enchant- 
ing slopes,  a warm,  perfumed,  exotic  air  coming  in  at 
the  window.  At  dawn,  with  a catching  of  the  breath, 
I looked  out  and  saw  once  again  those  two  matchless, 
rose-colored  peaks — Popocatepetl  and  Iztaccihuatl,  look- 
ing tranquilly  down  on  the  beauteous  plateau,  indifferent 
to  man’s  disorders. 

At  Mexico  City  Captain  Burnside  and  the  Embassy 
staff  were  at  the  station  to  meet  us,  and  in  a moment 
I found  myself  once  again  driving  through  the  familiar, 
vivid  streets,  the  changeless,  silent  Indians  coming  and 
going  about  their  simple  affairs.  The  Embassy  is  a 
huge  house — a gray-stone,  battlemented,  castle-on-the- 
Rhine  effect — which,  fortunately,  had  been  put  on  a 
possible  living  basis  for  the  Linds  by  a kindly  adminis- 
tration. It’s  an  ill  wind  that  blows  nobody  good. 
The  Linds  were  here  only  ten  days,  and  I think  it  very 
improbable  that  they  will  ever  return.  He  is  a man  of 
good  sense,  and  there  is,  as  in  most  establishments, 
room  for  many  men  but  only  for  one  maitresse  de 
maison. 

Now  I must  be  up  and  doing.  I wrant  to  pull  the  fur- 
niture about,  down-stairs,  and  make  myself  a setting  of 
some  sort.  There  are  several  packing-boxes  containing 
the  accumulation  of  our  first  Mexican  bout — books, 
vases,  cushions,  and  the  like.  Fortunately,  the  comfort- 
able green  leather  library  set  of  Mr.  Henry  Lane  Wilson, 
together  with  handsome  rugs  and  bookcases,  were  also 
bought  for  the  “confidential  agent’’;  and  I shall  use 
them  in  my  drawing-room,  instead  of  a rather  uncom- 
2 5 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


fortable  French  set  upholstered  in  pink.  The  bed- 
rooms are  already  fully  and  handsomely  furnished  with 
the  Wilsons’  things. 

Dear  Mme.  Lefaivre  came  last  night,  and  we  had 
lunch  at  the  Legation  to-day.  Such  an  affectionate 
welcome  from  her  warmest  of  hearts!  Many  persons 
have  called  and  cards  and  flowers  were  coming  in  all 
day. 

P.  S.  Yesterday,  Torreon  fell  into  the  hands  of  the 
rebels,  and  many  atrocities  were  committed  against 
Spanish  subjects.  The  Spanish  minister  is  in  a great 
state  of  excitement.  This  is  a severe  blow  to  Huerta. 
He  is  supposed  to  suppress  the  revolution.  If  he  doesn’t, 
he  loses  his  raison  d’etre — perhaps,  also,  his  head. 

October  nth. 

Last  night  Huerta  accomplished  his  second  coup  dttat; 
he  is  getting  very  skilful.  He  surrounded  the  Chamber 
of  Deputies  while  the  honorable  gentlemen  were  in  ses- 
sion, conspiring  against  their  constitution.  He  had  them 
arrested  as  they  came  out  into  the  hall,  and  I understand 
there  was  quite  a stampede  from  the  Chamber  itself 
when  they  got  wind  of  the  fact  that  something  was 
wrong.  He  accuses  them  of  obstructing  his  policy  of 
pacification  by  every  low  and  unpatriotic  means  at  their 
command,  and  these  are  numerous. 

Now  one  hundred  and  ten  of  them  are  lodged  in  the 
famous  Penitenciaria,  whither  Madero  was  going  on  his 
last  journey.  N.  was  out  until  two  o’clock  in  the  morn- 
ing, with  the  Spanish  minister  (dean  of  the  diplomatic 
corps),  going  first  to  the  Foreign  Office  to  try  to  obtain 
guarantees  for  the  lives  of  the  imprisoned  deputies,  and 
afterward  to  the  Penitenciaria , where  they  were  shown 
a list  of  eighty-jour,  and  given  assurances  that  they  would 
not  suffer.  It  looked  a bit  black  for  the  remaining 

6 


VIEW  OF  POPOCATEPETL  AND  IZTACCIHUATL 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


twenty-six.  The  clerks  spent  the  rest  of  the  night  here, 
getting  the  despatches  off  to  Washington. 

Huerta  appears  to  care  very  little  whom  he  shoots. 
He  has  small  sentiment  about  human  life  (his  own,  or 
anybody’s  else),  but  he  is  a strong  and  astute  man;  and 
if  he  could  get  a few  white  blackbirds,  in  the  shape  of 
patriots,  to  work  with  him,  and  if  the  United  States  were 
not  on  his  back,  he  might  eventually  bring  peace  to  his 
country. 

I am  not  yet  reaccustomed  to  the  extreme  beauty  of 
the  Mexican  morning;  a dazzling,  many-colored  light 
that  would  dim  the  spectrum  is  filtering  into  my  room, 
as  I write,  glorifying  every  object  and  comer.  I have 
had  the  covers  taken  off  the  pink  furniture;  a rose- 
colored  coverlet  and  cushions  are  on  my  chaise-longue, 
and  the  glow  is  indescribable. 

You  will  have  seen  that  the  Chambers  are  convened 
for  the  fifteenth  of  November,  but  in  spite  of  prepara- 
tions for  legislation,  a warlike  something  is  in  the  air. 
Squads  of  soldiers  are  passing  the  Embassy,  with  much 
playing  of  the  beautiful  national  hymn.  They  handle 
their  brass  very  well,  and  their  military  music  would  be 
good  anywhere. 

In  Washington  they  are  taking  the  news  of  the  coup 
d'etat  with  their  coffee.  . . . 

I have  not  yet  seen  von  Hintze,1  though  he  came  early 
yesterday,  bringing  a gift  of  fortifying  liqueur,  “for  the 
altitude,”  and  some  flotvers;  and  I went  with  Elim  to 
the  Legation,  later  on.  I understand  that  he  looks  at 
the  situation  rather  en  noir.  But  he  is  somewhat  of  a 
bear  on  Mexican  matters,  anyway,  his  first  experience, 
on  arriving  three  years  ago,  being  the  horrid  Cova- 
donga  murders.  ...  A certain  natural  exclusiveness  and 
aloofness  are  among  his  special  attributes,  and  his  psy- 
1 The  German  minister. 

7 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


chology  is  somewhat  mysterious,  even  to  his  friends; 
but  he  is  immensely  clever  and  charming,  of  the  world, 
and  very  sympathetic — really  a cher  colleague ! 

N.  has  just  left  the  house  in  frock-coat  and  top-hat, 
the  chiefs  of  mission  having  been  summoned  to  the 
Foreign  Office,  where  they  will  hear  the  official  reason  of 
the  coup  d'etat.  I shall  be  most  interested  in  the  explana- 
tion, which  will  probably  be  some  adroit  Latin-American 
arrangement  of  facts.  One  has  a feeling  of  being  at 
school,  here,  and  constantly  learning  something  new  to 
the  Anglo-Saxon  mentality. 

Now  I must  hie  me  down-stairs  and  tackle  a few  of 
my  “affairs  of  the  interior.”  The  house  is  so  big  that, 
even  with  the  many  servants  now  in  it,  it  doesn’t  seem 
“manned,”  and  bells  are  answered  very  intermittently. 
One  or  more  of  the  servants  can  always  be  found  at  the 
gates  of  the  garden,  greeting  the  passers-by — a little 
Indian  habit,  and  incurable.  What  I need  is  a European 
maitre  d’  hotel  to  thunder  at  them  from  his  Aryan  heights 
as  the  Wilsons  had.  There  are  some  good  Aztec  speci- 
mens left  over  from  their  administration,  whom  I shall 
keep  on — Aurora,  a big,  very  handsome  Indian  maid, 
from  the  Apam  valley;  Maria,  the  head  washerwoman, 
with  fine,  delicate  hands,  like  a queen ; and  a few  others. 
Neither  cook  nor  butler.  Berthe  is  busy  unpacking  and 
pressing;  everything  was  wrinkled  by  the  damp,  pen- 
etrating heat  of  the  sea-trip.  • 

The  Embassy  has  two  gendarmes  to  W'atch  the  gate, 
instead  of  the  usual  one  given  to  legations — nice,  old 
Francisco,  who  has  been  in  the  service  of  the  United 
States  for  twelve  years,  and  a handsome  new  one — 
Manuel.  The  auto  stands  before  the  gate  all  day  long. 
Jesus,  the  chauffeur,  seems  very  good — a fine-featured, 
lithe-bodied,  quick-witted  young  Indian.  Though  mar- 
ried, he  is,  I hear,  much  sought  after  by  the  other  sex. 

8 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 

Elim  always  goes  out  with  me,  and  loves  sitting  on  the 
front  seat  with  his  dog,  a melancholy  Irish  terrier  sent 
by  Mr.  Armstead  from  Guanajuato. 

Exchange  is  now  very  low.  One  hundred  dollars  equals 
two  hundred  and  eighty  Mexican  dollars.  Very  nice  for 
those  supplied  from  abroad,  but  killing  to  these  people, 
and  with  the  sure  prospect  of  getting  worse.  The  price 
of  articles  has  gone  up  by  leaps  and  bounds — not  native 
foods  so  much,  but  all  articles  of  import.  I hear  the 
auto-horn  and  must  stop.  Will  be  very  much  interested 
to  hear  the  official  wherefor  of  the  coup  d'ttat. 


October  12th,  Evening. 

Well,  the  Diplomatic  Corps,  in  uniform,  was  received 
at  the  Foreign  Office  with  much  unction,  by  the  large, 
stout  Moheno,  Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs,  of  whom 
more  another  time.  He  insisted  principally  on  the 
great  efforts  General  Huerta  v/as  making  to  restore 
peace,  and  the  equally  great  obstructions  placed  in 
his  way,  saying  that  since  the  opening  of  Congress 
these  obstructions  had  been  particularly  in  evidence, 
handicapping  him  at  every  step.  He  added  that, 
though  the  act  of  dissolving  Congress  was  unconsti- 
tutional, Mexico  must  be  compared  to  an  ill  man 
needing  an  immediate  operation;  and  that  the  gov- 
ernment was  confronted  by  the  dilemma  formulated 
by  Gambetta  (they  do  love  to  find  a European  simile 
for  their  situation) — “Yield  or  resign!”  which,  in  this 
case,  would  have  been  tantamount  to  national  dissolu- 
tion. The  crux  of  the  speech  is,  however,  that  the 
elections  are  to  be  held  this  month. 

Sir  Lionel  presented  his  letters  of  credence  yesterday, 
thus  putting  the  hall-mark  of  his  government  upon 
Huerta.  It  appears  there  was  quite  a love-feast ; Huerta, 
of  course,  was  immensely  pleased  at  the  proof  of  recog- 

9 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


nition  at  the  delicate  moment  of  his  birth  and  first 
struggling  cry  as  a dictator. 

Since  the  imprisonment  of  the  Deputies  there  has  been 
a constant  stream  of  their  mothers  and  wives  and  daugh- 
ters coming  to  the  Embassy  for  help,  though,  of  course, 
we  can  do  nothing;  little,  plain,  black-dressed,  black- 
eyed  women  or  high-chested,  thick-lipped,  diamond- 
ear-ringed  ones,  inclining  to  magenta  or  old  gold ; mostly, 
as  far  as  I can  see,  Maderista  in  their  tendencies.  Two 
of  the  little,  plain,  black  type  who  were  here  late  last 
night,  said  they  went  every  day  to  visit  Madero’s  grave! 
They  fear  the  Deputies  will  be  shot,  but  I hardly 
think  shrewd  old  Huerta  will  go  to  any  unnecessary 
lengths  with  the  very  cold  eye  of  the  world  upon  him. 
Keeping  them  locked  up,  where  they  can’t  vote,  or  dis- 
qualifying them,  is  all  that  he  wants.  It  is  true  that  they 
have  never  missed  an  opportunity  in  the  Chamber  to 
put  a spoke  in  his  wheel,  and  he  got  bored  with  the 
continual  “block.”  He  didn’t  arrest  members  of  the 
Catholic  party  who,  for  the  most  part,  had  been  trying 
to  sustain  order  through  him;  they  are,  after  all  is  said 
and  done,  the  conservative,  peace-wishing  element  in 
Mexico. 

The  Senate  he  simply  dissolved.  They  have  not  been 
giving  him  so  much  trouble.  One  of  the  heads  of  the 
Catholic  party  came  to  see  N.  yesterday,  to  talk  over  the 
opportuneness  of  their  putting  up  any  one  as  candidate 
for  President — a tentative  conversation,  on  his  part. 
Men  of  his  class,  unfortunately  for  Mexico,  rarely  iden- 
tify themselves  with  political  life,  and  were  entirely  in- 
visible during  the  Madero  regime.  The  Clerical  party 
has  very  little  money,  and  feels  the  battle  unequal  and 
the  outcome  most  uncertain.  N.  was,  of  course,  non- 
committal in  the  matter,  which  he  said  was  not  in  his 
province;  but  he  added  that  there  was  no  reason  for 

io 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


the  party  to  neglect  to  make  some  kind  of  representa- 
tion, any  more  than  for  the  others  to  do  so.  Huerta 
is,  of  course,  thoroughly  anti-Clerical. 

Yesterday  was  the  first  anniversary  of  the  independ- 
ence of  China;  it  may  be  because  it  is  so  far  away,  but 
they  seem  to  have  had  their  revolution  with  very  little 
sound  of  breakage.  There  was  a reception  at  the  Chi- 
nese Legation  during  the  generous  hours  of  4 to  10.  I 
went  at  about  5.  I got  up  to  go  four  times,  and  each 
time  the  charge  d'affaires  caught  me  at  the  door  and  said, 
“You  have  been  absent  eight  years — no,  I mean  eight 
months — and  I can’t  let  you  go.”  I finally  ran  the 
blockade  at  7.30,  promising  some  insistent  Oriental  near 
the  outer  door  that  I would  return.  All  the  diplomats 
were  there.  I found  von  Hintze,  like  a visitant  from 
another  world,  sitting,  inscrutable,  by  the  handsome, 
buxom  wife  of  the  Guatemalan  minister.  She  was  in 
black  lace  over  orange  silk,  making  my  white  tailor  suit 
seem  very  severe.  Stalewski,  the  Russian  minister,  was 
standing  near,  waiting  for  his  tea.  Sir  L.  and  Lady  C. 
came  in  at  6 o’clock  only,  then  Madame  Lefaivre — the 
Occidental  diplomats  naturally  gravitating  toward  one 
another.  Finally,  at  7,  when  the  rooms  down-stairs 
were  packed  like  sardine-boxes,  we  were  directed  up- 
stairs, where  a handsome  “champagne  lunch”  was 
served.  It  was  after  this  that  I made  my  escape.  The 
wife  of  the  charge,  and  some  other  Oriental  ladies,  in 
appalling  Western  costumes,  stood  in  close  formation 
near  the  door  from  start  to  finish,  wearing  an  unfading 
Oriental  smile. 

N.  spent  the  afternoon  hunting  for  the  Dictator, 
having  been  unable  to  track  him  down  since  the  famous 
coup.  He  hopes  to  induce  him  to  clemency  regarding 
the  deputies.  Huerta  has  a very  effective  way  of  drop- 
ping out  of  a situation — just  subtracting  himself  and 

11 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


reappearing  when  events  have  moved  on.  He  preserves, 
according  to  his  edict  of  the  nth,  the  full  powers  vested 
in  the  executive,  adding  generously  the  powers  of  Gober- 
nacion  (Interior),  Hacienda  (Treasury),  and  War,  though 
only  for  the  time  absolutely  necessary  for  the  re-estab- 
lishment of  the  legislative  power.  By  the  powers  of 
Gobern&cion  he  has  declared  invalid  the  exemption  of 
Deputies  from  arrest  and  makes  them  subject  to  the 
jurisdiction  of  the  tribunals  if  found  guilty  of  any  offense 
or  crime;  most  of  the  Deputies  are  only  getting  what 
they  deserve.  There  is  certainly  reason  to  complain  of 
their  lack  of  public  spirit ; there  seems  little  or  no  avail- 
able material  here  from  which  to  build  a self-governing 
state,  and  a dictator  (or  intervention)  is  what  they  need. 
Juarez  took  the  fear  of  hell  away  from  them  some  fifty 
years  ago;  Madero  took  the  respect  for  the  supremo 
gobierno  (supreme  power)  as  typified  by  the  strong  hand 
of  Diaz.  There  seems  nothing  left  to  hold  them — those 
fifteen  millions,  with  their  sixty-three  dialects  and  their 
thousand  idiosyncrasies  of  race  and  climate. 

Huerta  has  a handsome,  quiet-faced  wife  and  eleven 
children.  These  and  a rented  house  (he  has  never  lived 
at  Chapultepec  or  at  the  Palace)  are,  up  to  now,  his 
only  apparent  worldly  possessions.  I doubt  whether  he 
has  the  inclination  or  takes  the  time  for  an  undue  amount 
of  grafting.  He  is,  from  what  I hear,  very  canny  in  the 
matter  of  human  equations  and  seems  full  of  vitality 
and  a sort  of  tireless,  Indian  perseverance.  They 
say  that  the  more  he  drinks  the  clearer  his  brain 
becomes. 

Nine  Spaniards  that  were  killed  in  Torreon  the  other 
day,  on  refusing  to  give  up  their  goods  and  money, 
had  their  execution  preceded  by  such  gentle  rites  as 
digging  their  own  graves.  Villa  has  declared  no  quarter 
to  Spaniards;  they  must  get  out  of  his  Mexico,  bag  and 

12 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


baggage,  and  he  intends  to  see  that  the  Church  leaves 
with  them. 

On  all  sides  are  praises  of  N.’s  handling  of  the  many 
complicated  questions  coming  up,  and  his  being  persona 
grata  with  all  parties.  It  is  known  that  though  in  the 
carrying  out  of  difficult  orders  from  Washington  there  is 
an  absolute  point-blankness,  in  their  own  affairs  the 
Mexicans  can  count  on  tact,  courtesy,  and  any  service 
compatible  with  his  position. 

I imagine  that  Mr.  Lind  will  soon  be  realizing  the  fu- 
tility of  an  indefinite  stay  on-  Mexican  soil.  There  are 
no  results — and  I rate  him  a man  used  to  results. 


II 


Sanctuary  to  Bonilla — Sir  Lionel  and  Lady  Carden — Carranza — Mexican 
servants — First  reception  at  the  American  Embassy — Huerta  receives 
the  Diplomatic  Corps — Election  Day  and  a few  surprises. 


ANUEL  BONILLA,  a former  Maderista,  Minister 


of  Ways  and  Communications  (known  sometimes  as 
“Highways  and  Buyways”),  now  Senator  from  Sinaloa, 
has  just  come,  begging  asylum.  They  are  out  to  kill  him. 
Lie  greatly  resembles  the  people  who  are  after  him.  Of 
course  we  have  had  a room  made  ready  for  him,  and  he 
can  stay  quietly  in  it  until  a chance  offers  for  getting 
out  of  the  country.  His  room,  by  the  way,  contains  the 

bed  that  Mrs.  refused  when  she  was  shown  over 

the  Embassy,  saying,  “What!  Sleep  in  the  bed  of  a 
murderess?”  The  murderess  being  dear,  gentle,  pretty 
Mrs.  Wilson,  my  late  chcfesse,  and  the  murdered  ones,  I 
suppose,  being  Madero  and  Pino  Suarez! 

President  Wilson  has  now  sent  a message  to  the  pro- 
visional government,  entirely  disapproving  of  the  act 
of  dissolving  Congress,  saying  that  any  violence  offered 
any  Deputy  will  be  looked  on  as  an  offense  against  the 
United  States,  and  that,  furthermore,  the  United  States 
will  not  recognize  any  President  elected  after  any  such 
proceedings.  N.  has  just  gone  to  the  Foreign  Office  to 
deliver  himself  of  the  news.  Moheno  is  a large,  stout, 
curly-haired  Indian  from  Chiapas,  with  a bit  of  some- 
thing dark  thrown  in.  He  suggests  a general  effect  of 
Italian  tenor,  but  he  is  clever — perhaps  “cute”  is  a 


October  ijth. 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


better  word.  These  unfortunate  people  are  between 
the  devil  and  the  deep  sea — i.  e.,  between  their  own  law- 
lessness and  us. 

The  Cardens  had  their  first  reception  to-day.  The 
Legation  is  a new,  artistic,  most  comfortable  house  just 
off  the  Paseo — the  sort  of  thing  English  diplomats  find 
awaiting  them  everywhere.  Sir  L.  wras  here  for  sixteen 
years  as  consul.  He  was  the  British  government’s 
first  representative  after  the  Maximilian  affair;  so, 
though  he  has  been  absent  many  years,  he  finds  himself 
en  pays  de  connaissance.  He  is  the  handsome,  perfectly 
groomed,  tall,  fresh-complexioned,  white-mustached, 
unmistakable  Briton.  She  is  an  agreeable  American 
woman;  but  they  both  look  pale  and  bloodless  after 
many  years  of  Habana  and  Guatemala.  We  are  none 
of  us  at  our  rosiest  under  the  palm  and  cactus.  Sir  L. 
has  had  thirty  years  of  Latin-American  diplomatic 
experience. 


October  14th. 

Proofs  multiply  of  direct  conspiracy  of  the  Deputies 
against  the  provisional  government.  If  you  scratch 
a Maderista  Deputy  you  are  sure  to  find  a revolutionary 
of  some  sort.  The  task  of  establishing  peace  seems  well- 
nigh  hopeless.  Everywhere  are  treachery  and  venality. 
The  note  N.  handed  yesterday  to  the  Foreign  Office  has 
not  yet  been  answered,  though  Moheno  refers  to  it  in  a 
press  interview,  saying  that  it  had  been  presented  to  him 
by  Charge  d’affaires  O’Shaughnessy,  “A  gentleman  of 
the  most  exquisite  culture,”  and  that  he  must  not  be 
held  responsible  for  the  ‘‘intemperate  language  of  his 
government,” — rather  cocky!  Though  N.  is  handling 
the  officials  with  all  possible  care,  everybody  thinks  they 
are  preparing  a fiery  answer  for  to-morrow.  They  are 
capable,  at  any  moment,  of  sending  an  ultimatum  to 

!S 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


Washington  themselves,  and  then  the  fat  would  be  in 
the  fire ! 

A heavenly  warm  sun  is  streaming  in.  These  October 
mornings,  after  the  rains  have  ceased,  are  the  brightest 
jewels  in  Mexico’s  crown  of  loveliness. 

N.  is  so  sick  of  the  murder  and  destruction  he  sees  at 
first  hand  that  he  refuses  to  read  anything  about  Mex- 
ico. He  is,  in  fact,  living  a book  of  his  own.  But  I take 
an  interest  in  outside  comment.  I have  just  read  an 
article  in  the  North  American  Review,  by  Sydney  Brooks, 
giving  the  English  view  of  the  situation,  which  seems  to 
be  that  if  we  had  recognized  Huerta  he  would,  by  now, 
have  been  far  on  the  road  toward  the  establishment  of 
peace.  Also  a quotation  from  Le  Temps,  in  to-day’s  Im- 
partial, to  the  same  effect.  N.,  however,  is  beginning  to 
think  that  nothing  but  intervention  can  bring  about 
order.  The  elements  of  peace  seem  no  longer  in  the 
republic  itself.  Intervention  is  a big  word,  but  it 
needn’t  mean  the  extermination  of  Americans  or  their 
interests  in  Mexico.  Many  French  people  stayed  on 
through  the  French  intervention  and  reached  a green  old 
age ; Americans  could  do  the  same.  Any  one  who  really 
knows  how  easily  peace  is  frightened  out  of  a Latin- 
American  republic,  and  how  wary  she  is  about  coming 
back,  would  think  twice  about  alarming  her. 

Elim  has  just  presented  me  with  a large  bunch  of  pink 
geraniums  from  the  vases  at  our  front  entrance.  I wish 
he  would  choose  a more  remote  spot  for  depredations. 
He  is  drawn,  as  if  by  a magnet,  to  the  gendarmes  and 
the  untasted  joys  of  the  pavement.  The  Mexicans  are 
always  nice  with  children.  Them  isn’t  as  much  differ- 
ence between  the  little  ones  and  the  grown-ups  as  in 
more  sophisticated  countries. 

Bonilla,  our  minister-in-hiding,  keeps  very  quiet. 
From  what  I hear,  just  to  feel  safe  appears  to  be  a great 

16 


MRS.  ELLIOTT  COUES 
(Mother  of  Mrs.  O’Shaughnessy) 


A DIPLOMAT’ S-WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


luxury.  I have  had  no  intercourse  with  him,  beyond  an 
exchange  of  polite  messages  and  putting  one  of  the  men- 
servants  at  his  disposition.  They  tell  me  he  is  very  par- 
ticular about  keeping  his  windows  shut  and  his  blinds 
well  drawn  at  night,  and  is  a bit  jumpy  if  any  one  knocks 
at  the  door. 

Huerta  has  very  little  natural  regard  for  human  life. 
This  isn’t  a specialty  of  successful  dictators,  anyway. 
Only  by  the  hand  of  iron  can  this  passionate,  tenacious, 
mysterious,  gifted,  undisciplined  race,  composed  of  count- 
less unlike  elements,  be  held  in  order.  In  the  States, 
where,  of  course,  as  we  all  know,  everybody  and  every- 
thing are  just  as  they  ought  to  be,  this  isn’t  quite  under- 
stood. 

October  14th. 

There  is  a very  persistent  rumor  to-night  that  the 
answer  to  President  Wilson’s  message  delivered  by  N. 
yesterday  will  be  met  by  Mexico  with  the  breaking  off  of 
diplomatic  relations,  in  which  case  we  will  have  to  clear 
out  immediately  for  Vera  Cruz.  The  private  citizens  in 
town  can  take  their  time  in  leaving ; wc  must  go  quickly. 
I am  not  even  unpacked;  the  linen  of  the  voyage  still 
hangs  on  the  roof.  It  all  quite  takes  my  breath  away ; I 
scarcely  feel  as  if  I had  returned,  and  can’t  take  in  the 
idea  of  leaving.  The  full  cup  from  the  lip.  We  shall 
be  a nine  days’  wonder  on  reaching  New  York,  and  then 
what?  The  American  diplomatic  service  is  the  most 
uncertain  quantity  in  the  world. 

Later. 

Much  expectant  coming  and  going  in  the  house,  as  I 
write.  N.,  who  is  admirable  at  soothing  these  people, 
has  seen  Moheno,  and,  after  long  argument,  has  per- 
suaded the  Foreign  Office  to  modify  the  belligerent  tone 
of  the  answer  to  Washington.  There  were  three  Cabinet 

17 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


meetings  held  since  last  night,  to  discuss  the  answer, 
with  a majority  in  favor  of  extreme  measures.  It  is, 
however,  only  putting  off  the  day  of  rupture  a few  weeks 
or  months,  though  N.  feels  each  victory  is  so  much 
gained  for  the  United  States.  But  the  day  will  come 
when  we  will  find  ourselves  trekking  north. 


October  16th. 

Yesterday,  at  dark,  we  got  Bonilla  off,  grateful  but 
nervous.  The  motor  took  him  to  a station  about  twenty 
kilometers  from  the  town,  where  he  boarded  the  train 
for  Vera  Cruz,  to  get  the  German  boat  of  to-day.  Along 
a certain  trend  of  legal  reasoning  he  is  some  sixth  in  line 
for  President,  after  Madero,  Pino  Suarez,  Lascurain,  and 
others  who  have  been  killed,  or  have  disappeared  from 
the  uncertain  glories  of  office.  He  goes  to  Washington 
to  join  the  Maderistas,  I suppose,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that 
he  has  given  his  word  of  honor  not  to  ally  himself  with 
the  revolutionists.  It  was  only  on  such  a promise 
that  we  could  give  asylum  to  an  enemy  of  the  govern- 
ment to  which  N.  is  accredited. 

The  legal  (if  not  the  moral)  genealogical  tree  of 
Huerta’s  Presidency  is  the  following:  Madero,  Consti- 

tutional President;  Pino  Suarez,  Constitutional  Vice- 
President  (their  resignations  were  accepted  previous  to 
their  imprisonment,  by  Pedro  Lascurain,  Minister  for 
Foreign  Affairs,  and  a God-fearing,  honorable  gentle- 
man, by  the  way);  Lascurain  became  President  by 
operation  of  law  in  regard  to  the  vacant  executive  power; 
he  was  President  some  twenty  minutes  it  appears  (a 
bit  short,  even  for  Latin- America),  giving  him  time  to 
appoint  Huerta  to  the  post  of  Minister  of  Gobernacion 
(Interior).  After  Lascurain’s  resignation,  given,  I under- 
stand, with  alacrity,  automatically,  by  operation  of 
law,  the  executive  power  fell  to  Huerta  with  its  provi- 

18 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


sional  character,  and  under  the  Constitutional  promise 
to  call  especial  elections.  This  is  the  technical  way  by 
which  Huerta  became  President,  and,  according  to  the 
Mexican  constitution,  there  are  no  doubts  about  the 
complete  legality  of  the  operation. 

October  17th. 

A quiet  day;  many  rumors,  but  no  events.  All  the 
time  the  Carranzistas  are  gathering  strength  as  a party ; 
strength  apparently  coming  to  them  from  “above” — 
a higher  latitude,  I mean.  Seen  at  close  range  they  are, 
unfortunately,  no  better  than  “the  others.”  Carranza 
is  not  a bloodthirsty  villain,  but  the  physically  timid, 
greedy,  quiet,  conscienceless,  book-reading  kind,  and 
“constitucionalista”  is  a word  to  conjure  with.  It 
can  move  a good  Anglo-Saxon  to  tears,  though  I must 
say  that  all  revolutionary  leaders  in  Mexico  get  hold  of 
excellent  banner  devices.  Madero’s  were  above  criti- 
cism— “ Sujragio  efectivo  y no  Ke-eleccidn”  (“Effective 
Suffrage  and  No  Re-election”).  This  last  shows  you 
that  they  can  go  much  farther  in  the  expression  of  pure, 
distilled  patriotism  and  democracy  than  we,  as  those  of 
us  called  to  the  dignity  of  office  are  not  entirely  able  to 
rid  ourselves  of  a wish  for  a second  term. 

Also  Carranza,  who  has  none  of  the  ability  of  Huerta 
and  none  of  his  force,  has  had  the  luck  to  strike  a con- 
vincing note  with  his  long  whiskers  and  generally  ven- 
erable aspect,  imitated  by  all  his  followers  as  far  as 
nature  allows.  They  tell  me  New  York  and  Washington 
are  full  of.  respectable,  thin,  long- whiskered,  elderly 
Mexicans.  Those  who  have  watched  Carranza’s  long 
career,  however,  say  that  a quiet,  tireless,  sleepless 
greed  has  been  his  motive  force  through  life,  and  his 
strange  lack  of  friendliness  to  Washington  is  accounted 
for  by  the  fact  that  he  really  hates  foreigners,  any  and 
all,  who  prosper  in  Mexico.  It  seems  to  me  one  can 

19 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


scent  trouble  here.  Lack  of  any  special  political  color 
and  principles,  and  general  mediocrity,  have  kept  him 
obscure,  but  he  now  finds  himself  at  last  accidentally 
clothed  and  most  acceptable  to  the  Gran  Nacion  del 
Norte  in  the  fashionable  and  exclusive  garb  of  con- 
stitutionalism. I wonder  if  he  doesn’t  sometimes  wonder 
why  on  earth  he  is  so  popular  in  Washington. 

I am  told  that  Senora  Madero,  poor,  pitiful,  little, 
black-robed  figure,  saw  President  Wilson  soon  after  the 
murders,  and  her  tragic  tale  may  perhaps  have  deter- 
mined his  policy. 

The  fact  remains,  however,  that  Huerta  is  in  control 
of  the  army  and  the  visible  machinery  of  government 
which  represents  to  the  conservative  elements  (badly 
enough  or  well  is  a detail),  their  constitution,  the  only 
form  around  which  the  affairs  of  the  nation  can  group 
themselves  -with  any  definiteness. 

I had  a long  talk  the  other  day  with  the minister. 

He  seems  to  think  (all,  of  course,  politely  veiled)  that 
the  policy  of  the  United  States  is  to  weaken  these  people 
by  non-recognition,  and,  when  they  are  agonizing,  to 
come  in  cheaply  and  easily,  thus  avoiding  armed  inter- 
vention now,  which  would  be  much  better  for  the  Mexi- 
cans, though  more  expensive  for  us.  All  the  chers  col- 
Ugues  veil  behind  unassailably  discreet  remarks  their 
not  very  flattering  idea  of  what  they  doubtless  call  among 
themselves  our  “little  game.” 

I am  enjoying  the  spaces  in  this  huge  house,  free  to  the 
sun  and  air  on  all  sides.  Its  lack  of  furniture  is  amply 
compensated  for  by  flooding  luxuries  of  light  and  air. 
I am  going  to  receive  on  Tuesday,  and  I suppose  many 
people  will  come. 

October  22nd. 

Yesterday  I had  my  first  reception.  About  fifty  people 
came — the  chcrs  colldgucs  and  some  of  the  colony, 

20 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


mostly  only  those  whose  orbit  sometimes  crosses  the  dip- 
lomatic orbit.  There  were  flowers  in  every  available 
receptacle.  I made  a delicious  punch  myself,  if  I do 
say  it,  and  Mrs.  Burnside  poured  tea;  but  I miss  so 
many  of  the  familiar  and  friendly  faces  of  our  first  so- 
journ— Mr.  James  Brown  Potter  and  the  Riedls,  Mr. 
Butler,  and  many  others. 

Monday  I am  giving  a “bridge ” for  Lady  C.  I cannot 
yet  have  any  one  for  lunch  or  dinner,  but  I want  to  give 
some  little  sign  on  her  arrival.  The  Cardens  are  a very 
great  addition  to  an  ever-narrowing  circle. 

Great  Britain  stands  pat  on  its  recognition  of  Huerta, 
which  adds  greatly  to  his  prestige  in  the  eyes  of  his  own 
people,  and  is  most  welcome  in  view  of  the  approaching 
elections.  We  understand  the  ticket  will  be  Huerta  and 
Blanquet,  in  spite  of  Washington’s  frowns. 

I do  not  know  the  real  qualities  of  Blanquet,  up  to 
now  faithful  supporter  of  Huerta  and  his  Minister  of 
War.  The  dramatic  fact  that,  in  the  firing-squad  at 
Queretaro,  it  was  he  wrho  gave  the  coup  dc  grdce  to  Maxi- 
milian, has  always  overtopped  everything  else.  The 
pictures  of  Maximilian  in  the  National  Museum,  poor, 
blond,  blue-eyed  gentleman,  show  him  utterly  unfitted 
to  grapple  with  the  situation,  though  filled  with  the 
best  intentions.  He  was  like  some  rabbit,  or  other  help- 
less animal,  caught  in  a trap.  When  one  has  seen  arch- 
dukes on  their  native  heaths,  one  realizes  that  they  are 
not  of  the  material  to  wrestle  writh  the  descendants  of 
Montezuma ; though  I don’t  know  that  we,  in  spite  of  all 
our  “efficiency,”  are  being  any  more  successful! 

Great  Britain  will  be  very  polite,  but  will  not  depart 
one  hair’s-breadth  from  wrhat  it  has  decided  on  as  its 
Mexican  policy,  involving  big  questions,  not  alone  of 
prestige,  but  oil,  railways,  mines,  etc.  In  fact,  the 
British  reply  to  Mr.  Bryan  in  to-day’s  newspaper  quite 
3 21 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


clearly  says  that  England  will  be  delighted  to  follow  any 
policy  from  Washington  as  long  as  it  does  not  interfere 
with  what  the  British  Foreign  Office  has  decided  to  do. 
They  simply  can’t  understand  our  not  protecting  Ameri- 
can lives  and  interests.  Their  policy  here  is  purely  com- 
mercial, while  ours,  alas!  has  come  to  be  political. 

Great  excitement  is  predicted  for  Sunday,  the  day  of 
the  election,  but  all  the  timid  have  to  do  is  to  stay  at 
home,  if  their  curiosity  permits. 

The  import  duties  are  raised  50  per  cent,  from  the 
twenty-eighth  of  October.  But  it  will,  fortunately, 
bear  less  heavily  on  the  frijoles-  and  banana-eating  part 
of  the  population  than  on  those  who  want  breakfast- 
foods  and  pdte  de  foie  gras. 

A cook  comes  to-day,  highly  recommended,  but  I can 
see  just  the  sort  of  things  she  will  turn  out,  if  left  to 
herself — fried  bananas,  goat  stew,  etc.  She  comes  ac- 
companied by  her  little  girl  of  three.  One  of  the  washer- 
women also  has  a child  with  her,  and  there  are  tenta- 
tive remarks  from  other  quarters  regarding  offspring. 
But  the  house  is  so  big  that  a few  indwellers,  more  or 
less,  make  no  difference;  and  I am  not  sorry,  in  these 
uncertain  times,  to  harbor  a few  bright-eyed,  soft- 
skinned,  silent  brown  babies  under  my  roof.  The  hand- 
some Indian  maid  who  came  to  the  city  from  her  pueblo, 
because  her  stepfather  was  too  attentive,  has  gone. 
She  simply  vanished;  but  as  the  other  servants,  on  in- 
quiry, don’t  seem  worried,  I suppose  it  is  all  right.  They 
have  a way  of  leaving  after  they  get  their  month’s  wages, 
though  their  departure  is  generally  preceded  by  some 
such  formality  as  declaring  that  their  grandmother  is 
dead,  or  their  aunt  ill.  Where  they  go  is  a mystery. 

To-morrow  we  lunch  at  the  Simon’s.  He  is  the  clever 
French  Inspcctcur  des  Finances  of  the  Banco  Nacional. 
They  have  a handsome  house  in  the  Paseo,  an  excellent 

22 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


French  chef,  and  are  most  hospitable.  She  is  witty  and 
cultivated;  we  sometimes  call  her  “/a  belle  cuisinidre.” 
In  the  evening  we  dine  with  Rieloff,  the  musical  German 
consul-general,  who  will  serve  Beethoven  and  Bach 
very  beautifully,  after  dinner.  I am  very  little  disposed 
to  go  out  in  the  evening  here,  and  N.  is  nearly  always 
busy  with  despatches  until  a late  hour.  There  is  some- 
thing in  the  air,  nearly  8,000  feet  in  the  tropics,  which 
discourages  night  life,  even  in  normal  times,  and  tcr- 
tulias 1 of  any  kind  are  infrequent.  At  ten  the  streets 
are  deserted  and  the  Mexicans  all  under  some  sort  of 
cover.  Even  in  the  big  houses  they  take  the  most  ab- 
stemious of  evening  meals,  and  go  to  bed  early,  to  be 
ready  for  the  exceeding  beauty  of  the  early  morning. 

All  the  foreigners  here  have  nerves.  What  would  be 
peaceful,  dove-like  households  at  sea-level,  become  scenes 
of  breakage  of  all  description  at  this  altitude,  and  all 
sorts  of  studies  might  be  made  on  the  subject  of  “air 
pressure”  on  the  life  of  man  and  woman.  There  is  not 
the  accustomed  amount  of  oxygen  in  the  air  and,  with 
all  the  buming-up  processes  of  the  body  lessened,  there 
is  an  appalling  strain  on  the  nerves.  Hence  many  tears ! 

I wonder  if  you  ever  got  the  book  and  letter  I sent  you 
from  the  boat  from  Santander.  I gave  them,  with  ample 
postage  and  a fat  tip,  to  an  attractive,  barefooted, 
proud-looking  Spaniard,  who  had  brought  a letter  on 
board  for  some  one.  I told  him  they  were  for  mi  madre. 
With  a most  courtly  bow,  hat  in  one  hand,  the  other  on 
his  heart,  he  assured  me  that  he  would  attend  to  the 
matter  as  if  it  were  for  his  own  mother ! Pues  quien  sabe? 


October  24th. 

Yesterday  at  noon,  Huerta,  surrounded  by  his  entire 
Cabinet,  received  the  Diplomatic  Corps,  and,  though 


1 Tertulia — evening  party. 
23 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


there  was  much  excitement  beforehand,  when  his  remarks 
were  boiled  down,  nothing  was  changed.  The  Mexican 
is  a past  master  at  presenting  the  same  condition  under 
some  other  expedient  and  disarmingly  transparent  dis- 
guise. The  way  out  of  what  we  all  considered  a great 
difficulty  is  amazingly  simple.  There  will  be  no  Presi- 
dent elected ! Huerta  declares  he  will  not  be  a candidate, 
and  no  one  else  will  have  the  necessary  majority. 

The  plain  English  of  it  all  is — Huerta  at  the  head  of 
the  government  as  full-fledged  military  dictator.  After 
the  formal  statement  of  affairs  he  turned  to  N.  and 
begged  him  to  assure  Washington  of  his  good  faith ; and  he 
reiterated  that  his  sole  aim  was  the  pacification  of  Mex- 
ico. He  then  became  overpoweringly,  embarrassingly 
polite — even  tender.  He  took  N.’s  arm  and  led  him  out 
to  have  a copita1  in  the  face  of  the  assembled  corps, 
having  previously  embraced  him,  saying,  with  playful 
reminiscence,  “I  arrest  you.”  Such  are  the  vicissitudes 
of  representing  the  Stars  and  Stripes  in  Mexico ! People 
tell  me  Huerta’s  speeches  are  generally  masterpieces  of 
brevity,  with  something  magnetic  and  human  about 
them.  The  English  support  has  strengthened  him,  with- 
in and  without. 

Sir  L.  and  N.  were  snap-shotted  together  by  indiscreet 
newspaper  men  as  they  were  leaving  the  Palacio.  A 
ptice  & conviction,  if  ever  there  was  one.  Sir  L.  was 
laughingly  apologetic  for  N.’s  being  ‘‘found  so  near  the 
body.” 

Mrs.  Lind  left  yesterday  for  the  United  States,  and 
I have  written  to  the  Governor,  who  may  be  lonely,  to 
tell  him  how  welcome  he  would  be  if  he  likes  to  return 
to  Mexico  City.  I can  make  him  comfortable — in  a 
bedroom  and  study  adjoining — and  we  would  really  like 
to  see  him.  However,  he  may  not  care  to  come  up  for 

XA  little  drink. 

24 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


another  fausse  couche,  as  one  of  the  colleagues  called 
his  first  visit. 

Everybody  is  expecting  disorders  on  Sunday — Elec- 
tion Day.  There  is  very  little  difference  between  law- 
makers and  lawbreakers  in  Mexico.  We  foreign  devils 
can  scarcely  keep  our  faces  straight  when  we  hear  the 
word  “elections.”  Sunday  is  sure  to  find  Huerta  still  in 
the  saddle. 

October  25th. 

Yesterday  L , confidential  agent  of  Felix  Diaz,  ap- 

peared at  luncheon-time.  He  is  a clever  and  plausible 
individual,  angling  for  the  United  States  recognition  for 
Diaz’s  candidacy.  A special  train  has  been  offered  Felix 
Diaz,  but  he  is  afraid,  and  not  without  reason,  to  venture 
up  into  the  unknown,  so  he  will  wait  presidential  results 
at  Vera  Cruz,  with  its  attractive  harbor  full  of  fast 
ships. 

Tuesday,  28th. 

The  great  day  of  the  elections — the  26th — passed  off, 
not  only  without  disturbance,  but  without  voters  or 
votes!  The  candidates  so  talked  of  during  these  last 
days  were  conspicuous  by  their  absence.  Felix  Diaz 
wTas  afraid  to  come  to  the  capital,  though  all  “assur- 
ances”— whatever  that  may  mean — had  been  given  him. 
In  Vera  Cruz  he  stayed  at  a second-rate  hotel,  next  door 
to  the  American  Consulate — the  Stars  and  Stripes, 
doubtless,  looking  very  comfortable  from  an  accessible 
roof-to-roof  vantage-ground.  He  has  missed,  fatalisti- 
cally, it  wrould  seem,  the  occasions  whereby  he  might 
have  become  ruler  of  Mexico.  He  is  a gentleman,  rather 
in  our  sense  of  the  wTord,  and  the  name  he  bears  is  linked 
to  the  many  glories  of  Mexico,  but  this  is,  probably,  his 
political  burial.  Already  opportunity  has  called  him 
thrice — Vera  Cruz,  in  1912;  then  Mexico  City,  in  Feb- 

25 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


ruary,  1913;  now  again  at  Vera  Cruz,  in  October,  1913; 
and  still  another  wields  the  destinies  of  Mexico. 

The  chers  colleagues  prophesy  that  we  shall  be  here 
until  next  May,  when  probably  new  elections  will  be 
held.  The  concensus  of  opinion  is  that  I might  as  well 
get.  the  much-discussed  drawing-room  curtains  and  the 
rest,  though  I can’t  feel  enthusiastic  about  ordering  a 
lot  of  things  that  may  come  in  only  as  I go  out.  The 
dining-room  continues  to  strike  me  as  a terribly  bleak 
place,  like  all  north  rooms  in  the  tropics. 

I must  say  that  one  has  very  little  hunger  at  this 
height,  where  the  processes  of  digestion  are  much  slower 
than  at  ordinary  altitudes.  When  one  has  eaten  a soup 
of  some  sort,  a dish  of  rice  garnished  with  eggs,  bacon, 
and  bananas  (which  any  Mexican  can  do  beautifully),  or 
one  of  the  delicious  light  omelettes — tortilla  de  hucvos — 
topped  off  by  some  of  the  little,  wild,  fragrant  straw- 
berries almost  perennial  here,  and  over  which  wine  is 
poured  as  a microbe-killer,  one’s  “engine  is  stoked”  for 
twenty-four  hours. 

There  have  just  been  the  usual  parleyings  about  the 
brandy  for  the  turkey — the  guajolote,  the  Indians  call 
him — the  ancestral  bird  of  Mexico.  The  Aztecs  ate,  and 
continue  to  eat,  him;  and  good  cooks  have  the  habit  of 
giving  him  the  following  happy  death : on  the  morning  of 
the  day  on  which  you  are  to  eat  him,  you  generally  hear 
him  gobbling  about.  Then  there  is  the  demand  for 
whisky  or  brandy  “por  cl  gaujolote,  pobrecito.”  The  un- 
fortunate (or  fortunate)  bird  is  then  allowed  to  drink 
himself  to  death.  This  is  the  effective  way  of  render- 
ing him  chewable,  it  being  impossible  to  hang  meats  at 
this  altitude.  The  flesh  becomes  soft  and  white  and 
juicy.  But  try  a gravel-fed  gaujolote  that  has  not  gone 
to  damnation ! 

The  food  question  is  difficult  here,  anyway,  and  per- 

26 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


sonally  I am  unable  to  wrestle  with  it.  The  far-famed 
tropical  fruits  of  this  part  of  the  world  are  most  disap- 
pointing, with  the  exception  of  the  mango,  with  its  clear, 
clean,  slightly  turpentiny  taste.  There  are  many  vari- 
eties of  bananas,  but  scarcely  a decent  one  to  be  had, 
such  as  any  Italian  push-cart  is  stocked  with  in  New 
York.  The  chirimoya  has  a custard-like  taste — the  chico 
zapote,  looking  like  a potato,  has  also,  to  our  palate,  a very 
unpleasant,  mushy  consistency,  and  everything  is  pos- 
sessed of  abnormally  large  seeds  at  the  center.  The 
beautiful-looking,  but  tough,  peaches  that  adorn  our 
tables  come  from  California ; also  the  large,  rather  with- 
ered grapes. 


Ill 


Federal  and  Rebel  excesses  in  the  north — Some  aspects  of  social  life — 
Mexico’s  inner  circle— Huerta’s  growing  difficulties — Rabago — The 
‘‘Feast  of  the  Dead.” — Indian  booths  at  the  Alameda — The  Latin- 
American’s  future. 


October  29th. 

THE  Minister  for  Foreign  Affairs  is  now  in  the  drawing- 
room, from  which  I have  fled,  having  asked  to  con- 
fer with  N.  He  has  been  frightened  at  the  intervention 
outlook  and  probably  has  come  to  try  to  find  out  what 
Washington  really  has  in  store  for  Mexico.  He  said  the 
other  day  that  the  suspense  was  paralyzing  to  the 
nation. 

The  British  vice-consul  at  Palacio  Gomez,  Mr.  Cu- 
nard  Cummings,  came  for  lunch.  He  has  had  a thorough 
experience  with  both  rebels  and  Federals  at  Torreon,  and 
has  terrible  stories  to  tell  of  both  sides.  You  don’t 
change  Mexican  methods  by  draping  them  in  different 
banners.  In  fact,  it  isn’t  the  banner,  here,  but  the 
kind  of  hand  carrying  it,  that  makes  the  difference.  He 
told  us  how  one  night  the  rebels  shot  up  the  hospital 
in  his  town,  crowded  with  wounded  whom  he  and  the 
doctors  had  left  fairly  comfortable.  The  next  morning, 
when  he  went  back,  his  attention  was  first  caught  by 
something  dark  and  sticky  dripping  from  the  balcony, 
as  he  went  into  the  patio.  Up-stairs  a dreadful  sight  was 
presented  by  the  overturned  cots,  the  broken  medicine- 
bottles,  and  last,  but  not  least,  the  human  horrors. 

Another  tale  is  that  of  an  ex-Deputy,  de  la  Cadena, 
who  walked  up  the  aisle  of  a church  with  clanking  sword 
and  spurs,  seized  the  priest  officiating  at  Mass,  and  threw 

28 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


him  and  the  sacred  vessels  out  into  the  street,  to  the 
consternation  and  terror  of  the  humble  worshipers. 

Two  federal  military  trains  have  been  blown  up  during 
the  last  week.  Ninety  persons  were  killed  at  one  station 
and,  the  day  before,  one  hundred  and  two  killed  in  the 
same  way  at  Lulu  station.  It  is  certainly  a dance  of 
death. 

October  joth. 

Last  night  there  was  a very  pleasant  dinner  at  the 
German  Legation,  at  which  I presided.  I wore  my 
black  satin  Spitzer  dress,  with  the  white-and-silver  hang- 
ing sleeves,  which  was  much  admired.  Everybody’s 
clothes  are  known  here  and  people  are  thankful  to  see 
something  new.  The  Belgian  minister  was  on  one  side 
of  me,  and  the  Japanese  on  the  other.  Von  Hintze  was 
opposite,  with  Lady  C.  on  his  right,  and  Seiiora  de  Rul, 
wearing  magnificent  pearls  and  a high-necked  dress,  on 
his  left.  Three  of  the  officers  of  the  Hertha  were  there, 
giving  rise  to  uncomplicated  jokes  about  “Hertha”  and 
“Huerta.”  Of  course  conversation  about  Id  situacidn 
twisted  through  the  various  courses.  The  opinion  is 
that  there  are  enough  warring  elements  in  town  to  pro- 
vide a sort  of  spontaneous  combustion,  without  the  aid 
of  any  outside  happenings. 

Moheno  had  evidently  got  word  of  the  Cabinet  meet- 
ing in  Washington,  when  he  came  to  see  N.,  yesterday. 
He  was  most  profuse  in  protestations  of  friendship,  per- 
sonal and  political.  They  are  all  a bit  worried  and  per- 
haps will  be  amenable  to  negotiations. 

October  31st. 

Yesterday  there  was  a luncheon  at  May’s  in  honor  of 
the  Belgians  who  have  come  to  get  the  much-talked-of 
railroad  concession — a little  matter  of  five  thousand  kilo- 
meters.  Everything  is  beautifully  done  at  his  house,  and 

29 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


really  miss.  A tent  of  a night  I know — but  the  tea  hour 
comes  every  day ! 

November  2nd. 

Last  night  came  what  is  practically  an  ultimatum 
from  Washington  to  Huerta.  He  is  to  get  out,  he,  and 
all  his  friends,  or — intervention.  N.  was  at  the  palace 
until  one  o’clock  in  the  morning.  It  is  asking  Huerta  to 
commit  political  suicide,  and  he,  unfortunately,  does  not 
feel  so  inclined.  Also,  he  has  a conviction  that  he  is  a 
sort  of  “Man  of  Destiny”  who  can  bring  peace  to 
Mexico.  N.  tried  to  convince  him  of  the  complete  im- 
possibility of  standing  up  against  the  United  States,  and 
urged  him  again  and  again  to  give  way.  I was  troubled 
during  the  night  by  visions  of  intervention,  further  dev- 
astation of  this  beautiful  land,  and  the  precious  blood 
of  my  own  people. 

I am  reading  a Spanish  book  on  the  war  of  1847,  pub- 
lished in  1848.  The  reasons  why  battles  were  lost 
sound  immensely  familiar — generals  not  coming  up  with 
reinforcements,  or  the  commissary  not  materializing,  or 
the  troops  deserting.  It  is  all  so  like  what  we  are  read- 
ing now  in  the  newspapers!  No  tempora  mutantur  here. 

November  3rd. 

If  Huerta  feels  himself  in  his  last  ditch,  with  this 
threat  of  intervention,  he  may  answer  “que  vengan .” 
The  upper  classes  here  seem  to  feel  that  it  is  what  we 
intend  and  feel  that  if  “’twere  done,  ’twere  well  ’twere 
done  quickly,”  before  the  country  is  ruined.  The  bitter 
pill  will  be  sugar-coated  by  thoughts  of  the  prosperity  to 
follow.  A came  this  morning,  and,  after  a long  con- 

versation about  Mexico’s  troubles,  cried:  “Come  in  im- 
mediately and  clear  up  this  impossible  situation,  or 
leave  us  alone.  Nothing  is  safe;  nothing  is  sacred!” 
His  large  sugar  interests  are  in  the  Zapatista  country, 

32 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


and  he  is  pretty  well  ruined  by  their  destruction.  If  we 
come  in,  the  military  part  is,  perhaps,  the  least  of  it;  a 
huge  administrative  job  would  follow — Cuba  and  the 
Philippines  are  mere  child’s  play  to  it. 

A rather  cryptic  letter  came  from  Mr.  Lind  this  morn- 
ing. We  gather  that  he  is  thinking  of  leaving,  as  he  feels 
that  he  can’t  do  anything!  He  has  learned,  as  somebody 
said,  enough  Spanish  to  say  nothing  in  it.  I think,  how- 
ever, it  is  as  difficult  for  the  United  States  to  withdraw 
him  as  it  was  embarrassing  to  send  him.  Also  a letter 
came  from  Burnside,  from  Vera  Cruz,  telling  of  the  war- 
ships and  their  positions  in  the  harbor.  He  predicts  a 
migration  north  for  all  of  us,  at  an  early  date — but  who 
knows  ? 

November  4th. 

More  battle-ships  are  announced.  We  shall  have,  ac- 
cording to  to-day’s  paper,  about  6,000  men  at  Vera 
Cruz.  Box-cars  are  being  sent  to  the  frontier;  it  must 
all  mean  preparation  for  some  definite  stroke  on  the 
part  of  the  United  States.  I feel  that  I am  seeing 
life  from  a very  big  angle.  In  spite  of  the  underlying 
excitement  here,  outwardly  things  take  their  usual  course. 
Now  we  motor  out  to  Tlalpam  with  the  Belgian  minister, 
to  lunch  at  Percival’s.  It  is  a wondrous,  glistening  day, 
and  the  swift  run  over  the  smooth,  straight  road  toward 
the  enchanting  hills  which  form  its  near  background 
will  be  pure  joy.  The  mountains  have  a way  of  chan- 
ging their  aspect  as  one  motors  along,  even  with  one’s 
eye  on  them.  From  being  a breath,  an  emanation,  they 
become  blue,  purple  realities  of  matchless  beauty — dark 
shadows  pinned  to  them  with  spears  of  light. 

The  extremely  delicate  negotiations  N.  has  been  hav- 
ing with  the  President’s  private  secretary,  Rabago, 
concerning  Huerta’s  possible  resignation,  have  leaked 
out,  not  from  Mexico,  but  from  the  United  States,  and, 

33 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 

back  with  a rattling  sound.  It  is  all  a bit  macabre,  sold  by 
these  imperturbable  Indians  of  the  plateau,  who  are  far 
from  being  a jovial  race.  Pulque  and  their  other  drinks 
often  induce  silence  and  melancholy  rather  than  hilarity. 
They  never  sing  nor  whistle  in  the  streets.  They  almost 
never  dance.  If  they  go  through  a few  figures  it  is  mostly 
in  a solemn  manner  and  on  the  occasion  of  some  church 
festival,  when  they  dance  and  gesticulate,  strangely  gar- 
landed, in  the  patio  of  the  church  itself. 

The  Alameda  is  a handsome  park  in  the  very  middle 
of  the  town,  and  marks  the  site  of  the  old  Aztec  tianguiz, 
or  market-place.  Fountains  and  flowers  abound,  and  it 
is  lavishly  planted  with  beautiful  eucalyptus  and  palms; 
an  excellent  band  plays  daily.  The  pajarera  (aviary) 
around  which  the  children  cluster  is  very  poor,  consid- 
ering the  beauty  and  variety  of  the  Mexican  birds  and 
the  Aztec  traditions  in  this  regard.  The  park  has  no 
railing  around  it — one  can  stroll  in  from  the  broad  Ave- 
nida  Juarez.  The  drawback  to  the  stone  benches,  placed 
at  intervals,  is  that  the  most  prominent  have  graven 
upon  them  the  words,  “ Eusebio  Gay  os  so" — the  name  of 
the  popular  undertaker.  In  the  midst  of  life  you  are  in 
death  there.  However,  the  eternal  Indians,  sunning 
themselves  and  their  offspring  on  the  benches,  can’t 
read;  they  have  this  advantage  over  any  ilustrado  who 
might  want  to  rest  a bit. 

N.  has  just  returned  with  the  anxiously  awaited  answer, 
which  is  quite  beside  the  point.  Huerta  is  probably 
sparring  for  time.  He  proffers  vague,  pleasant  words 
in  answer  to  the  very  definite  message  of  the  President, 
to  the  effect  that  he  has  always  been  animated  by  the 
most  patriotic  desires,  that  he  will  always  limit  his 
acts  to  the  law,  and  that  after  the  elections  he  will 
scrupulously  respect  the  public  wTish  and  will  recognize 
any  person  elected  as  President  for  the  term  to  the 

36 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


30th  of  November,  1916.  N.  recommends  the  with- 
drawal of  the  Embassy  if,  after  the  23d  of  this  month, 
when  a new  congress  is  to  be  convened,  Huerta  has  not 
resigned.  This  might  influence  Huerta;  and  again,  he 
may  consider  it  only  another  cry  of  wolf. 

The  fact  is,  nobody  believes  we  really  will  intervene. 
The  chances  that  we  shall  depart  on  a war-ship  instead 
of  by  the  Ward  Line  are  very  good,  the  “d”  in  this  in- 
stance making  all  the  difference.  I shall  hate  to  leave 
this  palpitating,  prismatic  sort  of  life;  but  it  isn’t 
the  moment  to  have  personal  feelings  of  any  sort. 

Driving  back  this  evening  toward  a beautiful,  clear, 
red  sunset,  up  the  Plateros  between  the  rows  of  autos 
and  carriages  full  of  handsomely  dressed  people,  the 
men  standing  along  the  edge  of  the  pavement  as  they 
do  in  Rome  on  the  Corso,  it  seemed  impossible  that  I 
was  looking  at  a people  over  whom  a great  national 
humiliation  was  hanging.  The  crowds  become  more 
and  more  Mexican  every  day,  with  fewer  American 
faces. 

We  lunched  to-day  with  the  Iturbides.  Everything 
was  done  in  the  best  of  style — with  beautiful  old  silver  and 
porcelain.  He  is  a descendant  of  the  Emperor  Augustine 
Iturbide  of  tragic  history,  and  a charming  and  very 
clever  young  man  who  would  adorn  any  society.  Senor 
Bernal,  with  his  Christus  head,  its  extreme  regularity 
chisled  in  pale,  ivory  tones,  sat  on  my  other  side.  They 
all  seemed  to  fear  that  in  view  of  the,  to  them,  inexplic- 
able attitude  of  the  United  States,  the  end  in  Mexico 
would  be  the  long-dreaded  intervention  in  some  form. 
Not  a man  who  was  at  the  table,  however,  really  occu- 
pies himself  with  politics.  They  all  have  handsome 
houses  in  town,  but  they  live  for  the  most  part  on  their 
haciendas,  which  they  work  on  the  paternal  plan,  the 
only  plan  as  yet  productive  of  results  here  and  which  we 
4 37 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


in  the  United  States  don’t  at  all  understand,  not  being 
able  to  put  ourselves  into  another  nation’s  shoes.  The 
actual  political  business  here  is  left  to  the  educated 
middle  class,  whose  members,  instead  of  being  pillars  of 
society,  form  the  stratum  from  which  the  professional 
politician  and  embryo  revolutionist  always  spring — the 
licenciados,  sometimes  called  the  curse  of  Mexico,  and 
other  men  of  the  civil  professions,  generally  venal  to  a 
degree.  The  peon  is  faithful  when  he  has  no  power  and 
the  aristocrat  is  noble;  but  no  country  is  secure  whose 
best  elements  are  the  extremes. 

I am  not,  however,  pessimistic  as  to  the  future  of  the 
real  Latin-American  typified  by  this  middle  stratum, 
generally  mestizo.  He  always  forms  the  active  part  of 
the  population,  and  in  his  hands  seems  to  lie  the  future 
of  the  country.  The  Spaniard  as  typified  by  the  aristo- 
cratic classes  is  apt  to  hold  himself  aloof  and  will 
always  do  so.  The  Indian,  except  in  the  isolated  case  of 
some  individual  possessing  genius,  sure  to  present  him- 
self from  time  to  time,  has  not  the  qualities  to  form  the 
dominant  element.  It  is,  therefore,  reserved  for  this 
crossing  of  Spaniard  and  native  to  finally  embody  and 
present  the  real  national  characteristics. 

A rumor  is  out  to-night  that,  as  the  present  banking 
act  relative  to  certain  reserves  of  gold  and  silver  doesn’t 
suit  Huerta,  he  has  decided  to  do  away  with  it,  and  we 
are  to  stand  firmly  ( ?)  on  paper.  Shades  of  Limantour ! 

This  afternoon  I bought  several  beautiful  old  inlaid 
frames.  These  last  words  tell  of  one  of  the  greatest 
pleasures  in  Mexico— prowling  around  for  antiques. 
Almost  every  one  coming  down  here  gets  the  fever  and 
spends  hours  turning  over  junk,  in  an  almost  delirious 
way,  in  the  hope  of  unearthing  treasure.  In  spite  of  the 
fact  that  for  almost  fifty  years  Mexico  has  been  drained 
by  the  traveler,  and  again  and  again  devastated  by  civil 

38 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


strife,  there  still  remain  endless  lovely  things,  testifying 
to  the  wealth  and  taste  of  the  old  Spanish  days. 

November  6th. 

The  statement  in  the  Mexican  Herald  that  Mr.  Lind 
had  confirmed  the  report  of  an  ultimatum  and  the  prob- 
able failure  of  negotiations  is  simply  astounding.  Turn 
the  light  of  publicity  on  Huerta  and  he  is  as  wary  as 
some  wild  animal  who  comes  into  contact  with  man  for 
the  second  time.  Whatever  he  may  have  been  contem- 
plating, these  special  negotiations  are  now  dead  and 
buried. 

There  was  a big  dinner  at  the  Belgian  Legation  to- 
night; everything  beautifully  done,  as  usual.  I sat  op- 
posite my  host,  between  von  H.  and  Sir  L.  Wore  the 
flowered  black  velvet  chiffon,  and  that  black  aigrette 
with  the  Pocahontas  effect  in  my  hair;  von  H.  wanted 
to  know  why  this  delicate  Indian  tribute.  There  was  no 
political  conversation,  as,  with  the  exception  of  the  C.’s, 
von  H.,  and  ourselves,  only  handsome,  well-dressed,  and 
be  jeweled  members  of  the  Mexican  smart  set  were  pres- 
ent. May  is  nothing  if  not  exclusive,  with  a perfect 
flair  for  the  chicheria.  His  handsome  wife  is  in  Paris. 

My  drawing-room  is  filled  with  the  beautiful  pink 
geraniums  that  grow  thick  on  the  walls  of  the  Embassy 
gardens  and  balconies.  Juan,  the  gardener,  who,  like 
all  Aztecs,  understands  flowers,  brings  them  in  every 
other  morning,  cutting  them  most  effectively  with  very 
long  stems  and  many  leaves. 

“Ship  ahoy!”  in  the  harbor  of  Vera  Cruz  no  longer 
excites  attention.  Counting  the  French  and  German 
ships,  there  are  about  a dozen  in  all.  Seven  belong  to 
us.  There  were  only  two— the  New  Hampshire  and  the 
Louisiana — guarding  the  entrance  to  the  channel  when 
we  arrived  a month  ago.  Is  the  plot  thickening? 

39 


IV 


The  “ Abrazo  ” — Arrival  of  Mr.  Lind — Delicate  negotiations  in  progress 
— Luncheon  at  the  German  Legation — Excitement  about  the  bull-fight 
— Junk-hunting — Americans  in  prison — Another  “big  game”  hunt. 

November  /th. 

THE  newspaper  with  the  announcement  that  Mr. 

Lind  had  left  Vera  Cruz  last  night  for  Mexico 
City  was  brought  up  on  my  breakfast  tray.  I have  had 
two  rooms  made  ready  for  him,  moving  rugs  and  desks 
and  furniture  about,  robbing  Peter  to  pay  Paul,  as  one 
does  in  an  incompletely  furnished  house.  He  will  be 
welcome,  and  I hope  comfortable,  as  long  as  he  sees 
fit  to  stay.  I bear  the  memory  of  something  magnetic, 
something  disarming  of  criticism,  in  his  clear,  straight 
gaze,  blue  viking  eye,  his  kindly  smile,  and  his  tall, 
spare  figure,  clothed,  not  dressed.  He  won’t  find  it 
easy  here  and  I don’t  think  any  Mexican  official  sporting 
the  oak  of  the  protocol  will  receive  him  unless  he  is 
accompanied  by  N. — a sort  of  political,  Siamese-twin 
effect,  and  of  a superfluity. 

Later. 

When  I got  down-stairs  Mr.  Lind  was  in  N.’s  study. 
To  greet  him  I had  to  get  through  a swarm  of  newspaper 
men  clustering  like  bees  around  the  honey-pot  of 
“copy.”  I presented  him,  so  to  speak,  with  the  keys  of 
the  borough,  and  retreated  to  my  own  bailiwick  to  order 
luncheon  for  one  o’clock.  The  whole  town  is  whispering 
and  wondering  what  it  all  will  mean.  Huerta  remains 
silent.  It  appears  that  he  and  his  generals  are  now 

40 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


willing  to  make  headway  against  the  rebels.  Why  not 
before?  A hundred  years  ago  “dips”  were  sent  to 
Constantinople  to  learn  a thing  or  two  they  hadn’t 
known  before.  Now,  I think,  Mexico  is  as  good  a school 
for  the  study  of  other  points  of  view. 

Mr.  Lind  makes  no  secret  of  his  conviction  of  the 
hostile  intentions  of  England  in  the  Mexican  situation; 
but  I have  difficulty  in  thinking  that  to  save  her  in- 
terests here,  big  though  they  be,  England  would  ever 
do  anything  to  jeopardize  our  friendship.  In  last  week’s 
Multicolor  there  was  a picture  of  the  White  House,  with 
England,  Germany,  and  France  in  the  act  of  painting  it 
green.  Poner  verdc  is  to  insult. 

Huerta  feels  that  he  has  the  support  of  many  foreign 
powers,  especially  of  England.  Sir  L.,  by  presenting 
his  credentials  the  morning  after  the  coup  d'ttat,  stiffened 
him  up  considerably. 

November  8th. 

We  have  been  busy  these  past  two  days.  Mr.  L.  is 
a delightful  guest,  easy  and  simple.  He  goes  to-morrow, 
but  I am  pressing  him  to  return  for  Thanksgiving — if 
we  are  here.  People  smile  when  I speak  of  a Thanksgiv- 
ing reception.  Three  weeks  is  a long  cry  in  Mexico  City, 
in  these  days. 

N.  finally  ran  Huerta  down  yesterday  in  the  El  Globo 
cafe.  He  received  the  usual  affectionate  abrazo,1  and 
they  had  a copita  together,  but  Huerta  never  men- 
tioned Lind  any  more  than  if  he  were  non-existent,  and 
shied  off  at  the  remotest  hint  of  “business.”  Instead,  he 
asked  N.,  “How  about  the  girls?”  (“  Y las  muchachasV ’) 
a phrase  often  used  for  opening  or  closing  a conversation, 

1 The  abrazo  has  been  described  by  some  one  as  the  “ Oriental  and 
scriptural  embrace,  whereby  men  hold  one  another  for  a moment  and, 
bending,  look  over  one  another’s  shoulder.”  It  is  both  dignified  and 
expressive. 


41 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


in  these  climes,  much  as  we  would  ask  about  the  weather. 
It  has  no  bearing  on  whatever  subject  may  be  in  hand. 

The  new  elections  are  to  be  held  on  the  23d  of  this 
month.  Huerta  plays  with  the  government  in  Washing- 
ton in  a truly  Machiavellian  way.  They  want  his  resig- 
nation, but  for  the  moment  there  is  no  recognized  gov- 
ernment in  whose  hands  to  place  such  a resignation. 
After  the  23d,  if  the  elections  bear  fruit,  he  will  find  some 
other  reasons  for  remaining.  If  it  were  not  for  the  fact 
that  might  is  always  right,  the  Administration  would  be 
as  the  kindergarten  class,  in  regard  to  this  clever,  in- 
volved, astute  old  Indian.  “They  say”  he  is  getting 
rich,  but  there  are  no  apparent  signs.  I don’t  think  his 
mentality  is  that  of  the  money-loving  order,  though 
possibly  his  principles  would  not  prevent  his  making 
himself  comfortable  if  he  put  his  mind  to  it.  He  is  now, 
however,  so  under  the  domination  of  his  idee  fixe — pacifi- 
cation— in  spite  of  the  difficulties  within  and  without, 
that  I doubt  if  he  is  taking  an  undue  interest  in  personal 
enrichment. 

November  gth. 

This  morning  I began  the  day  by  telephoning  von 
Hintze  to  come  for  lunch,  as  Mr.  Lind  wanted  to  see 
him  informally.  Then  I went  to  the  house  of  the  Chilian 
chargfi  who  died  yesterday.  He  was  laid  out  in  the 
center  of  the  little  dining-room,  the  electric  bell  from  the 
hanging  lamp,  which  he  must  often  have  pressed  while 
eating,  dangling  over  his  poor,  dead  face.  There  is  a 
quite  particular  sadness  about  the  passing  away  of 
diplomats  in  lands  distant  from  their  own,  their  little 
span  spun  among  the  polite,  but  the  unrelated  and  un- 
caring. I stayed  for  a rosary  and  litany,  the  priest,  his 
pretty,  childless  wife,  and  myself,  alone  in  the  room. 
Great  hangings  of  purple  bougainvillaea,  the  glory  of 
Mexico,  darkened  the  window.  May  he  rest  in  peace. 

42 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 

There  was  interesting  conversation  at  lunch,  only 
we  four  being  present.  Mr.  Lind  repeated  to  von  Hintze 
what  he  has,  curiously  enough,  said  to  many  people  here 
— his  opinion  that  the  crux  of  the  matter  was  the  Anglo- 
American  relations,  and  that  the  United  States  would 
never  allow  the  dominance  of  British  interests  to  the 
injury  of  American  or  Mexican  ones;  von  Hintze,  though 
he  listened  attentively,  was  non-committal  and  most 
diplomatic  in  his  answers.  It  is  always  of  absorbing 
interest  to  Germans  to  hear  of  possible  difficulties  be- 
tween England  and  other  nations,  and  vice  versa,  too,  for 
that  matter.  A light  springs  into  the  eye;  and  I dare 
say  von  Hintze  made  a report  to  his  home  government 
on  returning  to  the  Legation.  He  told  Mr.  Lind  he 
thought  we  had  not  sufficiently  respected  the  amour 
propre  of  the  Mexicans;  that  we  were  wrong  in  trying 
threats  when  what  they  needed  was  skilful  coaxing. 
Mr.  Lind  volunteered  the  surprising  statement  that  it 
didn’t  suit  us  to  have  the  elections  held,  anyway,  as 
there  would  be  concessions  granted  and  law’s  passed  that 
would  render  the  Mexican  situation  difficult  for  us  for 
fifty  years.  I really  felt  quite  embarrassed. 

The  Vera  Cruz  elections  amused  Mr.  Lind  consider- 
ably, the  “urn”  being  a common  pasteboard  shoe-box 
with  a slit  in  it.  This  objet  de  vertu  he  had  actually 
seen  with  his  owrn  eyes. 

The  towrn  is  v’ild  over  the  bull-fight  this  Sunday  after- 
noon. Belmonte,  cl  fenomeno,  just  arrived  from  Spain, 
twenty-one  years  old,  is  the  object  of  all  affections.  Po- 
litical matters  are  quite  in  abeyance.  There  wras  a 
scarcely  subdued  excitement  among  the  servants  as  the 
gay  throng  passed  the  Embassy  en  route  for  the  Ring,  and 
considerable  dejection  this  evening  because  all  hadn’t 
been  able  to  stampede  the  house  and  hie  them  to 
the  fray.  They  are  like  children;  any  disappointment 

43 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


seems  the  end  of  everything.  A continual  cloud  of  dust 
wrapped  us  about,  stirred  up  by  the  thousands  passing 
in  motor,  carriage,  or  on  foot.  During  my  first  Mexican 
sojourn  I went  to  two  bull-fights,  but  didn’t  acquire 
the  taste.  De  Chambrun  told  me  one  had  to  go  six 
times  running,  after  which  one  couldn’t  be  kept  away! 

I saw  Belmonte  driving  yesterday,  the  crowds  cheering 
wildly.  His  expression  of  pride,  yet  condescension,  dis- 
tinguished him  as  much  as  his  clothes.  He  wore  the 
usual  flat  black  hat,  showing  his  tiny  pigtail,  a wide- 
frilled  shirt  under  a tight  jacket  which  didn’t  pretend  to 
meet  the  still  tighter  trousers,  and  he  was  covered  with 
jewelry — doubtless  votive  offerings  from  adoring  friends. 
And  to-night  he  may  be  dead ! 

Burnside  and  Ensign  H.,  of  the  Louisiana,  who  ac- 
companied Lind  as  body-guard,  return  with  him  to 
Vera  Cruz.  The  Embassy  is  to  engage  a compartment 
for  him  in  the  evening,  but  he  will  go  in  the  morning. 
Just  as  well  to  be  prepared  against  “accidents.” 


November  nth. 

We  lunch  at  the  German  Legation  to-day,  with  Mr. 
Lind.  He  hasn’t  any  clothes,  but  as  he  doesn’t  work 
along  those  lines  I suppose  it  doesn’t  matter.  There  is 
no  question  of  the  tailor  making  this  man. 

A heavenly,  transforming  sun,  for  which  I am  giving 
thanks,  shines  in  at  my  windows.  I am  going  out  to  do 
some  “junking”  with  Lady  C.  With  exchange  three  for 
one,  every  now  and  then  some  one  does  unearth  some- 
thing for  nothing.  The  Belgian  minister,  who  has  money 
and  flair,  makes  the  most  astounding  finds.  He  got 
for  a song  what  seems  to  be  an  authentic  enamel  of 
Diane  de  Poitiers,  in  its  original  frame — a relic  of  the 
glories  of  the  viceroys. 

Something  that  developed  in  a conversation  with  Mr. 

44 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


Lind  has  been  making  me  a bit  thoughtful,  and  more 
than  a little  uneasy.  He  has  the  idea,  perhaps  the  plan, 
of  facilitating  the  rebel  advance  by  raising  the  embargo, 
and  I am  afraid  he  will  be  recommending  it  to  Washing- 
ton. We  had  been  sitting,  talking,  after  dinner,  shiv- 
ering in  the  big  room  over  a diminutive  electric  stove, 
when  he  first  tentatively  suggested  such  action.  I ex- 
claimed: “Oh,  Mr.  Lind ! You  can’t  mean  that!  It  would 
be  opening  a Pandora  box  of  troubles  here.”  Seeing  how 
aghast  I was,  he  changed  the  subject.  But  I cannot  get 
it  out  of  my  head.  The  Mexican  book  is  rolled  out  like 
a scroll  before  him;  can  it  be  that  he  is  not  going  to 
read  it?  Any  measures  tending  to  undermine  the  cen- 
tral authority  here,  imperfect  though  it  be,  can  only 
bring  calamity.  I witnessed  that  at  first  hand  in  the  dis- 
astrous overturning  of  the  Diaz  rule  and  the  installation 
of  the  ineffective  Madcro  regime.  I think  Madero  was 
more  surprised  than  any  one  that,  after  having  taken  so 
much  trouble  to  help  him  in,  we  took  so  little  to  keep 
him  in.  The  diplomats  are  forever  insisting  that  Diaz’s 
situation  in  1877  was  analogous  to  Huerta’s  now,  and 
that  after  a decently  permissible  delay  of  ten  months, 
or  whatever  it  was,  we  recognized  him.  So  why  not 
Huerta?  He,  at  least,  is  in  possession  of  the  very  deli- 
cate machinery  of  Mexican  government,  and  has  shown 
some  understanding  of  how  to  keep  it  going. 


Later. 

The  lunch  at  the  German  Legation  was  most  interest- 
ing. Lind,  Rabago,  the  Belgian  minister,  and  ourselves 
were  the  guests.  Rabago  doesn’t  speak  a word  of  Eng- 
lish, and  Mr.  Lind  not  a word  of  Spanish,  so  there  was  a 
rather  scattered  conversation.  Everybody  smiled  with 
exceeding  amiability — all  to  show  how  safe  we  felt  on 
the  thin  ice.  The  colleagues  are  always  very  polite,  but 

45 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


none  of  them  is  really  with  us  as  regards  our  policy. 
Standing  with  von  Hintze  by  the  window  for  a few  min- 
utes after  lunch,  I used  the  word  intervention,  and  von 
Hintze  said  something  about  the  unpreparedness  of  the 
United  States  for  war.  This,  though  true,  I could  not 
accept  unchallenged  from  a foreigner.  I answered  that 
if  war  were  declared,  we  would  have  a million  men  at  the 
recruiting  offices  between  sunrise  and  sunset.  It  sounded 
patriotic  and  terrifying,  but  it  was  rendered  rather  in- 
effective by  his  reply,  “Men,  yes,  but  not  soldiers. 
Soldiers  are  not  made  between  sunrise  and  sunset.”  He 
added  something  about  the  apparent  divergence  in  public 
opinion  in  the  States,  and  threw  a bit  of  Milton  at  me  in 
the  shape  of  ‘ ‘ not  everybody  thinks  they  serve  who  only 
stand  and  wait.”  Ignoring  this  quotation  from  the 
blind  bard,  I said  that  whatever  the  divergence  of  pub- 
lic opinion  might  be  before  war,  the  nation  would  be 
as  one  man  with  the  President  after  any  declaration. 
I also  told  him  we  did  not  regard  the  Mexican  situation 
so  much  as  a military  situation  as  a police  and  adminis- 
trative job,  which  we  were  unwilling  to  undertake.  I 
then  made  my  adieux,  leaving  the  “junta”  in  full 
swing,  the  Belgian  minister’s  agile  tongue  doing  won- 
ders of  interpretation  between  Lind  and  Rabago.  The 
result  of  the  palaver,  however,  as  I heard  afterward 
from  the  various  persons  who  took  part,  was  nil. 

Mr.  Lind  keeps  me  on  the  qui  vive  by  predictions  of  a 
rupture  in  the  next  few  days.  He  is  naturally  becoming 
impatient  and  would  like  things  to  come  to  a head.  I 
have  not  drawn  a peaceful  breath  since  landing. 

Runs  on  the  banks  to  draw  out  silver  in  exchange  for 
paper  have  complicated  matters.  When  I went  this 
morning  to  the  Banco  Internacional  I saw  people  stand- 
ing at  the  paying-teller’s  desk,  with  big  canvas  bags  in 
which  to  carry  off  silver.  Since  the  law  to  coin  more 

46 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


silver  has  been  passed,  I should  say  that  each  patriot 
intends  to  do  his  best  to  line  his  own  cloud  with  that 
material. 

November  12th. 

A telegram  came  from  Washington  last  night.  Rup- 
ture of  diplomatic  relations  unless  Huerta  accedes  to  our 
demands.  N.  has  taken  it  to  the  Foreign  Office,  to 
Rabago  and  to  Garza  Aldape,  to  prove  to  them  that, 
though  they  may  not  believe  it,  we  are  ready  to  take 
strenuous  measures.  It  is  all  more  like  being  on  a vol- 
cano than  near  one.  Neither  the  Mexican  nation,  nor 
any  other,  for  that  matter,  believes  we  are  ready  and 
able  to  go  to  war;  which,  of  course,  isn’t  true,  as  we 
may  be  called  upon  to  show.  War  is  not,  to  my  mind, 
anyway,  the  greatest  of  evils  in  the  life  of  a nation. 
Too  much  prosperity  is  a thousand  times  worse;  and 
certainly  anarchy,  as  exemplified  here,  is  infinitely  more 
disastrous.  We  ourselves  were  “conceived  in  wars,  born 
in  battle,  and  sustained  in  blood.” 

We  hope  the  Louisiana  went  to  Tuxpan  last  night, 
and  that  she  will  shell  out  the  rebels  there  who  are  in 
full  enjoyment  of  destruction  of  life  and  property.  It 
would  give  them  all  a salutary  scare.  There  are  huge 
English  oil  interests  there.  The  owners  are  all  worried 
about  their  property  and  generally  a bit  fretful  at  the 
uncertainty.  Will  we  protect  their  interests  or  will  we 
allow  them  to?  Our  government  gave  wraming  that 
it  would  not  consider  concessions  granted  during  the 
Huerta  regime  as  binding  on  the  Mexicans.  It  makes 
one  rub  one’s  eyes. 

Later. 

Things  Mexican  seem  approaching  their  inevitable 
end.  At  three  o’clock  to-day  N.  showed  Rabago  the 
telegram  from  Washington  about  the  probable  breaking 
off  of  diplomatic  relations.  He  turned  pale  and  said 

47 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


he  would  arrange  an  interview  with  the  President  for 
six  o’clock.  At  six  o’clock  N.,  accompanied  by  Mr. 
Lind,  presented  himself  at  the  Palace.  Neither  President 
nor  secretary  was  there.  Rabago  finally  telephoned 
from  some  unknown  place  that  he  was  looking  for  Huerta, 
but  could  not  find  him.  Some  one  suggested  that  he 
might  at  that  time  be  closeted  with  the  only  “for- 
eigners ’ ’ he  considered  really  worth  knowing — Hennessy 
and  Martell. 

Mr.  Lind  came  for  a moment  to  the  drawing-room  to 
tell  me  that  he  leaves  to-night  at  8.15.  He  thinks  we 
will  be  following  him  before  Saturday — this  being  Wed- 
nesday. The  continual  sparring  for  time  on  the  part  of 
the  government  and  a persistently  invisible  President 
have  got  on  his  nerves.  He  hopes,  by  his  sudden  depart- 
ure, to  bring  things  to  a climax,  but  climaxes,  as  we  of  the 
north  understand  them,  are  hard  to  bring  about  in  Latin 
America.  The  one  thing  not  wanted  is  definite  action. 
Mr.  Lind  said,  in  a convincing  manner,  as  he  departed, 
that  he  would  arrange  for  rooms  for  us  in  Vera  Cruz.  He 
knows  it  is  N.’s  right  to  conduct  any  business  connected 
with  the  breaking  off  of  relations,  which  he  seems  sure 
will  be  decided  on  at  Washington,  and  he  realizes  that 
N.  has  borne  the  heat  and  burden  of  the  Mexican 
day.  He  seems  more  understanding  of  us  than  of 
the  situation,  alas!  I said  Godspeed  to  him  with  tears 
in  my  eyes.  Vague  fears  of  impending  calamity  press 
upon  me.  How  is  this  mysterious  and  extraordinary 
people  fitted  to  meet  the  impending  catastrophe — this 
burning  of  the  forest  to  get  the  tiger? 

An  American  citizen,  Krauss,  has  been  put  without 
trial  in  the  Prison  of  Santiago,  where  he  has  come  down 
with  pneumonia.  N.  has  sent  a doctor  to  him  with 
d’Antin,  who  has  been  for  years  legal  adviser  and  trans- 
lator to  the  Embassy,  and  is  almost,  if  not  quite,  a Mexi- 

48 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


can.  They  found  the  American  in  a long,  narrow  corridor, 
with  eighty  or  ninety  persons  lying  or  sitting  about; 
there  was  scarcely  stepping-room,  and  the  air  was  hor- 
rible; there  were  few  peons  among  the  prisoners,  who 
were  mostly  men  of  education — political  suspects.  One 
aspect  of  a dictatorship! 

Garza  de  la  Cadena,  the  man  I wrote  you  about  (who 
seized  the  priest  at  the  altar  and  threw  him  into  the 
street  in  Gomez  Palacio) , was  shot  yesterday,  by  his  own 
rebels,  for  some  treachery — a well-deserved  fate.  He 
was  taken  out  at  dawn  near  Parral,  placed  against  an 
adobe  wall,  and  riddled  with  bullets. 

This  morning  I was  reading  of  the  breaking  off  of  our 
relations  with  Spain  in  1898.  Most  interesting,  and 
possibly  to  the  point.  History  has  a way  of  repeating 
itself  with  changes  of  names  only.  I wonder  will  the 
day  come  when  N.’s  name  and  Algara’s  figure  as 
did  General  Woodford’s  and  Polo  de  Bemabe’s?  Vari- 
ous horrors  take  place  here,  but  no  one  fact,  it  seems  to 
me,  can  equal  the  dwindling  of  the  population  of  the 
“green  isle  of  Cuba”  (indescribably  beautiful  as  one 
steams  along  its  shores),  which  dropped  from  1,600,000 
to  1,000,000  in  ten  months — mostly  through  hunger. 
Mothers  died  with  babes  at  their  breasts;  weak,  totter- 
ing children  dug  the  graves  of  their  parents.  Good 
God ! How  could  it  ever  have  happened  so  near  to  us  ? 
However,  they  are  all  safe — “ con  Dios.” 

Now  we  take  a hurried  dinner,  at  which  Mr.  Lind, 
Captain  B.,  and  Ensign  H.  had  been  expected,  and  then 
N.  goes  “big-game  hunting”  again.  It  bids  fair  to  be  a 
busy  night. 


V 


Uncertain  days — The  friendly  offices  of  diplomats — A side-light  on  ex- 
ecutions— Mexican  street  cries — Garza  Aldape  resigns — First  official 
Reception  at  Chapultepec  Castle — The  jewels  of  Cortes. 

November  13th. 

THE  President  was  not  trackable  last  night,  though 
N.  kept  up  the  search  until  a late  or,  rather,  an  early 
hour.  It  certainly  is  an  efficient,  if  not  satisfactory,  way 
of  giving  answer — just  to  subtract  yourself  from  the 
situation. 

N.  will  not  present  himself  at  the  convening  of  Con- 
gress on  Saturday,  the  15th.  His  absence  will  make  a 
big  hole  in  the  Corps  Diplomatique. 

Several  reporters  were  here  early  this  morning  to  say 
they  had  positive  information  that  Huerta  had  fled  the 
country.  But  Mexico  City  as  a rumor  factory  is  un- 
excelled, and  one  no  longer  gets  excited  over  the  on 
dits.  Moreover,  nothing,  probably,  is  further  from 
Huerta’s  mind  than  flight.  From  it  all  emerged  one 
kernel  of  truth:  Mr.  Lind  had  left  for  Vera  Cruz  with- 
out satisfaction  of  any  kind. 

The  Belgian  minister  came  in  yesterday  just  as  Mr. 
Lind  was  leaving.  He  begged  him  not  to  go,  to  refrain 
from  any  brusque  action  calculated  to  precipitate  a 
rupture  that  might  be  avoided.  But  I can’t  see  that 
any  one’s  coming  or  going  makes  any  difference.  The 
abyss  is  calling  the  Mexicans  and  they  will  fall  into  it 
when  and  how  they  please. 

I have  gone  so  far  as  to  tell  Berthe  to  pack  my  clothes. 

50 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


The  things  in  the  drawing-rooms  I will  leave — and  lose 
if  necessary.  It  would  create  a panic  if  any  one  came  in 
and  saw  the  rooms  dismantled.  No  one  can  tell  what  is 
really  impending.  The  American  editor  who  remarked 
that  what  we  take  for  an  Aztec  Swan  Song  is  generally 
only  another  yelp  of  defiance  is  about  right. 

The  five  days’  siege  of  Chihuahua  was  ended  yesterday 
by  a Federal  victory.  The  rebels  lost  about  nine  hundred 
men.  The  corpses  of  the  latter  were  very  well  dressed, 
many  wearing  silk  underclothing,  the  result  of  the  looting 
of  Torreon,  which  the  rebels  took  several  weeks  ago. 
The  Chihuahua  victory  will  probably  strengthen  the 
provisional  government  if  anything  can.  The  generals, 
including  Orozco,  who  fought  against  Madero,  have  been 
promoted. 

Night  before  last  the  train  on  the  Inter-oceanic  be- 
tween Mexico  City  and  Vera  Cruz  was  held  up  by  rebel 
bandits  for  two  hours.  Everybody  was  robbed  and 
terrorized.  The  rebels  had  in  some  way  got  news  of  the 
large  export  of  bullion  on  the  train.  There  was  so  much 
that  they  could  not  have  carried  it  off,  even  if  they 
hadn’t  been  frightened  in  the  midst  of  their  raid  by  a 
hastily  summoned  detachment  of  Federals.  If  we  depart 
I don’t  care  to  chaperon  silver  bars  to  the  port.  And 
N.  says  he  would  like  Huerta  to  sit  on  the  seat  with  him 
all  the  way  down. 

I wonder  if  the  government  will  be  so  huffed  at  the 
non-appearance  of  the  American  representative  on 
Saturday  that  the  Sabbath  will  see  us  on  the  way,  with 
our  passports?  Probably  men  may  come  and  men  may 
go  ( vide  Mr.  Lind),  coldness  and  threats  may  be  tried 
on  them,  and  they  will  continue  to  let  everything  go 
till  the  United  States  is  actually  debarking  troops  at 
the  ports  and  pouring  them  over  the  frontier.  Masterly 
inaction  with  a vengeance. 

5i 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


I have  an  idea  that  Washington  is  not  in  accord  with 
Mr.  Lind’s  impatience  to  end  the  situation  by  a rupture 
of  diplomatic  relationship.  Once  broken  off,  we  would 
be  faced  by  an  urgent  situation,  demanding  immediate 
action.  Perhaps  it  is  true  that  we  are  not  efficiently 
ready  for  intervention,  besides  not  wanting  it.  As  long 
as  N.  stays  the  wheels  will  be  oiled. 

November  14th. 

Last  night  the  atmosphere  cleared — for  a while,  at 
least.  Congress  will  not  be  convened  to-morrow,  which 
puts  quite  a different  aspect  on  things.  If  it  had  been 
held,  Mexico  would  have  been  the  only  country,  by  the 
way,  able  to  display  a triplicate  set  of  Congressmen, 
i.  e.,  those  in  jail,  those  elected  since  the  coup  d'etat,  and 
the  last  new  ones. 

Sir  L.  called  yesterday  to  offer  his  services.  Great 
Britain  knows  she  must  be  in  accord  with  us.  Many 
other  colleagues  also  called,  fearing  some  trouble  when 
it  was  understood  that  N.  was  not  to  attend  the  opening 
and  that  the  United  States  proposed  to  declare  null  and 
void  any  act  of  the  Congress.  Quite  a flutter  among  the 
expectant  concessionaires  Beiges!  It  all  had  a very 
salutary  effect.  There  is  no  use  in  any  of  the  Powers 
trying  to  “rush  ” the  United  States,  no  matter  what  their 
interests  on  the  Western  Hemisphere. 

Later. 

President  Wilson  has  decided  to  delay  the  announce- 
ment of  his  new  Mexican  policy.  Incidentally,  I told 
Berthe  to  unpack.  Well,  we  will  all  be  quiet  until  some- 
thing else  turns  up.  Hundreds  of  dollars’  worth  of  cables 
went  out  from  the  Embassy  yesterday,  N.  dictating  for 
hours  and  the  clerks  coding.  Several  of  them  are  sleep- 
ing at  the  Embassy,  anyway — so  much  night  work  that 
they  are  needed  on  the  ground. 

52 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


I am  giving  this  letter  to  M.  Bourgeois,  the  French 
consul-general,  leaving  on  the  Espagnc,  next  week.  He 
is  an  agreeable  man  of  the  world,  who  has  just  been 
assigned  to  Tientsin. 

Evening,  io  o'clock. 

Matters  very  serious.  N.  is  to  deliver  to-night  what 
is  practically  an  ultimatum.  He  called  up  Manuel 
Garza  Aldape,  Minister  of  Gobcrnacion  (Interior),  and 
arranged  for  an  interview  with  him  at  his  house  at  nine 
o’clock.  Then  he  rang  up  the  ministers  he  needs  as  wit- 
nesses, to  accompany  him  there. 

Von  Hintze  arrived  first.  When  he  had  read  the  paper 
here  in  the  drawing-room  he  said,  after  a silence,  “This 
means  war.”  (Some  one  had  intimated  such  a possibility 
on  Wednesday  last,  to  Garza  Aldape,  and  he  had  an- 
swered, quietly,  “It  is  war.”)  Von  Hintze  went  on  to  say: 
“Huerta’s  personal  position  is  desperate.  Whether  he 
fights  the  rebels  in  the  north  or  the  United  States,  it  is 
disaster  for  him.  Only,  I fancy,  he  has  less  to  lose  in  the 
way  of  prestige  if  he  chooses  the  United  States.  His 
nation  will  make  some  show  of  rallying  around  him  in 
this  latter  case.”  Von  Hintze  is  persuaded  that  we  are 
not  ready  for  war,  practically  or  psychologically.  He 
kept  repeating  to  N.:  “ But  have  you  represented  to  your 
government  what  all  this  will  eventually  lead  to?”  N. 
answered  “Washington  is  justly  tired  of  the  situation. 
For  six  months  our  government  has  urged  and  threatened 
and  coaxed.  It  doesn’t  want  any  more  useless  explana- 
tions. It  is  too  late.” 

However,  until  the  note  is  in  Huerta’s  hands  it  is 
not  official.  So  I still  hope.  Garza  Aldape  is  one  of  the 
best  of  the  ministers. 

I went  with  von  Hintze  and  N.  to  the  big  front  door 
and  wratched  the  motor  disappear  in  the  darkness.  De- 
licious odors  from  the  geraniums  and  heliotrope  in  the 
5 S3 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


garden  enveloped  the  house,  but  after  a moment  I came 
back,  feeling  very  still.  The  idea  of  American  blood 
watering  the  desert  of  Chihuahua  grips  my  heart.  I can 
see  those  dry,  prickly  cactus  stubs  sticking  up  in  the  sand. 
No  water  anywhere!  During  the  Madero  revolution  a 
couple  of  hundred  Mexicans  died  there  of  thirst,  and 
they  knew  their  country.  I kept  looking  about  my  com- 
fortable drawing-room,  with  its  easy-chairs  and  photo- 
graphs, books  and  bowls  of  flowers,  and  saying  to  my- 
self : “So  that  is  the  way  wars  are  made.”  This  putting 
of  another’s  house  in  order  is  getting  on  my  nerves. 

The  telephone  has  been  ringing  constantly.  The  jour- 
nalists have  had  indications  from  Washington  that  some- 
thing is  impending. 

Saturday,  November  15th. 

N.  came  in  last  night  at  half  past  twelve,  after  a 
three  hours’  conference  with  Aldape.  He  is  to  see  him 
again  at  ten  this  morning.  They  say  that  the  presence 
of  Mr.  Lind  gives  publicity  to  every  step,  that  their 
national  dignity  is  constantly  imperiled,  and  that  it  is 
impossible  to  negotiate  under  such  conditions.  Aldape 
also  said  that  Huerta  flies  into  such  a rage  whenever 
Lind’s  name  is  mentioned  that  conversation  becomes 
impossible. 

Later. 

Things  are  very  strenuous  to-day.  N.  saw  Garza 
Aldape  at  ten.  He  said  he  had  passed  a sleepless  night, 
after  their  conference,  and  had  not  yet  presented  the 
ultimatum  to  Huerta.  N.  asked  him  if  he  were  afraid 
to  do  so,  and  he  answered,  quite  simply,  “Yes.”  N.  told 
him  he  would  return  at  three  o’clock,  and  if  by  that 
time  the  note  had  not  been  presented  through  the  reg- 
ular channels,  he  would  do  it  himself. 

The  outlook  is  very  gloomy.  Carranza  in  the  north 
has  refused  the  offices  of  W.  B.  Hale  as  mediator,  saying, 

54 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


“No  foreign  nation  can  be  permitted  to  interfere  in 
the  interior  matters  of  Mexico.’’  If  Carranza  says  that, 
certainly  Huerta  cannot  say  less.  So  there  we  are. 
Though  nothing  was  further  from  his  purpose,  Mr. 
Lind  has  absolutely  knocked  any  possible  negotiations 
on  the  head  by  the  noise  and  publicity  of  his  arrival  in 
the  city  of  Montezuma  and  Huerta.  The  Latin-American 
may  know  that  you  know  his  affairs,  and  know  that  you 
know  he  knows  you  know;  but  he  does  not  want  and 
will  not  stand  publicity. 

This  morning  I went  out  “junking”  at  the  Thieves’ 
Market  with  Lady  C.  It  seemed  to  us  that  all  the  rusty 
keys  in  the  world,  together  with  all  the  locks,  door- 
knobs, candlesticks,  spurs,  and  family  chromos  were  on 
exhibition.  We  were  just  leaving  when  my  eye  fell  on 
a beautiful  old  blue-and- white  Talavera  jar,  its  metal 
top  and  old  Spanish  lock  intact.  After  considerable 
haggling  I ended  by  giving  the  shifty-eyed  Indian  more 
than  he  had  ever  dreamed  of  getting,  and  much  less 
than  the  thing  was  worth.  Drugs,  sweetmeats,  and  valu- 
ables of  various  kinds  used  to  be  kept  in  these  jars. 
Greatly  encouraged,  I dragged  Lady  C.  to  the  Monte 
de  Piedad.  All  foreigners  as  well  as  natives  frequent  it, 
hoping,  in  vain,  to  get  a pearl  necklace  for  what  one 
would  pay  for  a string  of  beads  elsewhere.  One  of  the 
monthly  remates,  or  auctions,  was  going  on,  and  the 
elbowing  crowd  of  peons  and  well-dressed  people,  to- 
gether with  the  familiar  Aztec  smell,  made  us  feel  it 
was  no  place  for  us.  The  diamonds  and  pearls  here  are 
mostly  very  poor,  and  the  great  chunks  of  emeralds 
with  their  thousand  imperfections  are  more  decorative 
than  valuable.  The  fine  jewels  of  the  wealthy  class  have 
come  mostly  from  Europe,  though  shrewd  buyers  are 
on  the  lookout  for  possible  finds  in  the  constant  turn- 
over of  human  possessions.  There  are  beautiful  opals 

55 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


to  be  had  in  Mexico,  but  you  know  I wouldn’t  touch 
one,  and  the  turquoise  has  been  mined  from  time  im- 
memorial. The  museums  everywhere  are  full  of  them 
as  talismans  and  congratulatory  gifts,  to  say  nothing  of 
the  curio-shops. 

Cortes,  it  appears,  was  very  fond  of  jewels,  and  was 
always  smartly  dressed  in  fine  linen  and  dark  colors,  with 
one  handsome  ornament.  When  he  went  back  to  Spain 
he  set  all  the  women  crazy  by  the  jewels  he  took  with 
him.  Emeralds,  turquoises,  gold  ornaments,  and  pana- 
ches of  plumes  of  the  quetzal  (bird  of  paradise)  cunningly 
sewn  with  pearls  and  emeralds,  after  the  Aztec  fashion, 
were  distributed  with  a lavish  hand.  The  presents  for 
his  second  wife  were  so  splendid  that  the  queen  became 
quite  jealous,  though  he  had  made  her  wonderful  offer- 
ings. It  is  hinted  that  this  was  the  beginning  of  his  dis- 
favor at  court. 

November  17th. 

Yesterday,  which  began  so  threateningly,  ended  with- 
out catastrophe.  On  opening  the  morning  newspaper, 
I saw  that  Garza  Aldape  had  resigned.  He  finally  pre- 
sented the  American  note  to  Huerta,  with  the  result 
that  he  also  presented  his  own  demission  and  leaves 
almost  immediately  for  Vera  Cruz,  to  sail  on  the  Espagne 
for  Paris,  where,  it  is  rumored,  he  will  be  minister  in 
place  of  de  la  Barra.  Anyway,  it  is  his  exit  from 
Huertista  politics.  He  is  a gentleman  and  a man  of 
understanding.  The  way  Huerta  has  of  dispersing  his 
Cabinet  is  most  unfortunate. 

Yesterday  there  was  another  little  luncheon  at  Tlal- 
pam.  We  sat  in  the  beautiful,  half-neglected  garden 
till  half  past  four  among  a riot  of  flowers  in  full  bloom, 
callas,  violets,  roses,  geraniums,  and  heliotrope  on  every 
side.  The  two  white,  distant  volcanoes  crowned  as  ever 
the  matchless  beauty  of  the  scene  about  us. 

56 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


What  the  diplomats  are  fearing  in  the  event  of  N.’s 
withdrawal  is  the  interregnum  after  our  departure  and 
before  the  American  troops  could  get  here.  They  foresee 
pillaging  of  the  city  and  massacre  of  the  inhabitants; 
as  their  natural  protectors,  the  Federal  troops,  would  be 
otherwise  occupied,  fighting  “the  enemy” — i.  e.,  us! 
They  always  say  Washington  would  be  held  respon- 
sible in  such  an  event,  by  the  whole  world,  but  this 
thought  does  not  seem  to  comfort  them  much.  The 
ineradicable  idea  among  all  foreigners  is  that  we  are 
playing  a policy  of  exhaustion  and  ruin  in  Mexico  by 
non-recognition,  so  that  we  will  have  little  or  no  diffi- 
culty when  we  are  ready  to  grab.  One  can  talk  one- 
self hoarse,  explain,  embellish,  uphold  the  President’s 
policy — it  makes  no  difference:  “It  is  like  that.” 

We  came  home  after  I had  shown  myself  with  Elim 
at  the  Country  Club  on  our  way  in.  People  are  in  a 
panic  here,  but  no  one  has  heard  anything  from  me 
except  that  I expect  to  receive  on  Thanksgiving  Day 
from  four  to  eight.  The  telephones  are  being  rung  all 
day  by  distracted  fathers  and  husbands,  not  knowing 
what  to  do.  They  cannot  leave  their  daily  bread. 
They  are  not  men  who  have  bank  accounts  in  New 
York  or  in  any  other  town,  and  to  them  leaving 
means  ruin.  They  come  with  white,  harassed  faces. 
“Is  it  true  that  the  Embassy  is  to  be  closed  to-night?” 
“WTat  do  you  advise?”  “It  is  ruin  if  I leave.” 
“Can’t  we  count  on  any  protection?”  are  a few  of  the 
questions  asked. 

Dr.  Ryan,  the  young  physician  who  did  such  good 
work  during  the  Decena  Tragica  last  February,  is  here 
again.  He  has  been  in  the  north  these  last  months, 
where  he  saw  horrid  things  and  witnessed  many  exe- 
cutions. He  says  the  victims  don’t  seem  to  care  for 
their  own  lives  or  for  any  one’s  else,  They  will  stand  up 

57 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


and  look  at  the  guns  of  the  firing-squad,  with  big  round 
eyes,  like  those  of  deer,  and  then  fall  over. 

As  I write  I hear  the  sad  cry  of  the  tamale-women, 
two  high  notes,  and  a minor  drop.  All  Mexican  street 
cries  are  sad.  The  scissors-grinder’s  cry  is  beautiful — 
and  melancholy  to  tears. 

I was  startled  as  I watched  the  faces  of  some  con- 
scripts marching  to  the  station  to-day.  On  so  many  was 
impressed  something  desperate  and  despairing.  They 
have  a fear  of  displacement,  which  generally  means  catas- 
trophe and  eternal  separation  from  their  loved  ones. 
They  often  have  to  be  tied  in  the  transport  wagons. 
There  is  no  system  about  conscription  here — the  press- 
gang  takes  any  likely-looking  person.  Fathers  of  fam- 
ilies, only  sons  of  widows,  as  well  as  the  unattached,  are 
enrolled,  besides  women  to  cook  and  grind  in  the  powder- 
mills.  Sometimes  a few  dozen  school-children  parade 
the  streets  with  guns,  escorted  by  their  teachers.  Un- 
ripe food  for  cannon,  these  infants — but  looking  so 
proud.  These  are  all  details,  but  indicative  of  the  situ- 
ation. 

November  18th. 

To-morrow  Huerta  and  his  senora  are  to  receive  at 
Chapultepec,  the  first  time  they  will  have  made  use  of 
the  official  presidential  dwelling.  They  are  moving  from 
the  rented  house  in  the  Calle  Liverpool  to  one  of  their 
own,  a simple  enough  affair  in  the  Mexican  style,  one 
story  with  a patio,  in  an  unfashionable  quarter. 

As  we  are  still  “accredited,”  I think  we  ought  to  go, 
there  being  no  reason  why  we  should  offer  to  Senora 
Huerta  the  disrespect  of  staying  away. 

When  we  arrived  in  Mexico,  beautiful  Dona  Carmen 
Diaz  was  presiding;  then  came  Senora  de  la  Barra, 
newly  married,  sweet-faced,  and  smiling;  followed  by 
Seiiora  Madero,  earnest,  pious,  passionate.  Now  Senora 

58 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


Huerta  is  the  “first  lady” — all  in  two  years  and  a half. 
The  dynasties  have  a way  of  telescoping  in  these  climes. 

The  invitation  to  the  opening  of  Congress  to-morrow 
has  just  come  in — exactly  as  if  the  United  States  had 
not  decided  that  no  such  Congress  should  be  convened 
and  its  acts  be  considered  null  and  void. 

Elim  told  me  to-day  that  all  the  children  he  plays  with 
have  gone  away — “afraid  of  the  revolution,”  he  added, 
in  a matter-of-fact  voice.  He  expects  to  die  with  me  if 
“war”  does  come,  and  is  quite  satisfied  with  his  fate. 

The  details  of  Garza  Aldape’s  demission  have  come  in. 
His  resignation  was  accepted  by  Huerta  in  the  friendli- 
est manner.  He  concluded  the  conversation,  however, 
by  telling  Aldape  the  Espagne  was  sailing  on  Monday, 
and  that  he  had  better  leave  on  Sunday  morning,  so  as 
to  be  sure  not  to  miss  it.  This  being  late  Saturday  eve- 
ning, Garza  Aldape  demurred,  saying  his  family  had  no 
trunks.  The  President  assured  him  that  he  himself 
would  see  that  he  got  all  he  needed.  Subsequently  he 
sent  Aldape  a number  of  large  and  handsome  receptacles. 
Madame  G.  A.  received  a hand-bag  with  luxurious  fit- 
tings, and  20,000  francs  oro  in  it!  The  “old  man”  has  a 
royal  manner  of  doing  things  on  some  occasions;  and 
then  again  he  becomes  the  Indian,  inscrutable,  unfath- 
omable to  us,  and  violent  and  high-handed  to  his  own 
people — whom  he  knows  so  very  well. 

The  reception  at  Chapultepec,  yesterday,  was  most 
interesting.  As  we  drove  through  the  Avenida  de  los 
Insurgentes  up  the  Paseo  toward  the  ‘ ‘ Hill  of  the  Grass- 
hopper” the  windows  of  the  castle  were  a blaze  of  light 
high  up  against  the  darkening  sky. 

On  our  last  visit  to  Chapultepec,1  Madero  and  Pino 
Suarez,  were  there,  and  shades  of  the  murdered  ones  be- 


1 Chapultepec — from  the  Aztec  words  chapulin  (grasshopper)  and 
tepetl  (hill). 

59 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


gan  to  accost  me  as  I appeared  on  the  terrace.  One  of 
the  glittering  presidential  aides,  however,  sprang  to  give 
me  his  arm,  and  in  a moment  I was  passing  into  the 
familiar  Salon  de  Embaj adores,  to  find  Senora  Huerta  in- 
stalled on  the  equally  familiar  gilt-and-pink  brocaded 
sofa  placed  across  the  farther  end.  She  has  been  a very 
handsome  woman,  with  fine  eyes  and  brow,  and  has 
now  a quiet,  dignified,  and  rather  serious  expression. 
She  was  dressed  in  a tight-fitting  princess  gown  of  red 
velvet,  with  white  satin  guimp  and  black  glac6  kid  gloves. 
She  has  had  thirteen  children,  most  of  whom  seemed  to 
be  present  on  this,  their  first  appearance  in  an  official 
setting.  The  daughters,  married  and  unmarried,  and 
their  friends  receiving  with  them,  made  quite  a gather- 
ing in  themselves.  As  I looked  around,  after  saluting 
Senora  Huerta,  • the  big  room  seemed  almost  entirely 
filled  with  small,  thick-busted  women,  with  black  hair 
parted  on  one  side  over  low,  heavy  brows,  and  held 
down  by  passementerie  bandeaux;  well-slippered,  very 
tiny  feet,  were  much  in  evidence.  None  of  the  “aristo- 
crats” were  there,  but  el  Cuerpo,  was  out  in  full  force. 

The  President  came  at  about  six  o’clock,  walking 
quickly  into  the  room  as  the  national  air  was  played,  and 
we  all  arose.  It  was  the  first  time  I had  seen  him.  N. 
presented  me,  and  we  three  stood  talking,  in  the  middle 
of  the  room,  while  everybody  watched  “America  and 
Mexico.” 

Huerta  is  a short,  broad-shouldered  man  of  strong 
Indian  type,  with  an  expression  at  once  serious,  amiable, 
and  penetrating;  he  has  restless,  vigilant  eyes,  screened 
behind  large  glasses,  and  shows  no  signs  of  the  much- 
talked-of  alcoholism.  Instead,  he  looked  like  a total  ab- 
stainer. I was  much  impressed  by  a certain  underlying 
force  whose  momentum  may  carry  him  to  recognition 
— now  the  great  end  of  all. 

6q 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 

I felt  myself  a bit  “quivery”  at  the  thought  of  the 
war-cloud  hanging  over  these  people,  and  of  how  the  man 
dominating  the  assembly  took  his  life  in  his  hands  at  his 
every  appearance,  and  was  apparently  resolved  to  die 
rather  than  cede  one  iota  to  my  country.  After  the  usual 
greetings,  “a  los  pies  de  Vd.  senora ” (“at  your  feet, 
senora”),  etc.,  he  remarked,  with  a smile,  that  he  was 
sorry  I should  find  things  still  a little  strained  on  my 
return,  but  that  he  hoped  for  a way  out  of  the  very  nat- 
ural difficulties.  I answered  rather  ambiguously,  so  far 
as  he  is  concerned,  that  I loved  Mexico  and  didn’t  want 
to  leave  it.  I felt  my  eyes  fill  over  the  potentialities  of 
the  situation,  whereupon  he  answered,  as  any  gentleman, 
anywhere  in  the  world,  might  have  done,  that  now  that 
la  senora  had  returned  things  might  be  arranged!  After 
this  he  gave  his  arm  to  Madame  Ortega,  wife  of  the 
Guatemalan  minister,  the  ranking  wife  of  the  Spanish 
minister  being  ill,  and  Madame  Lefaivre  not  yet  arrived. 
Senor  Ortega  gave  me  his  arm,  and  we  all  filed  out  into 
the  long,  narrow  gallery,  la  Vitrina,  overlooking  the  city 
and  the  wondrous  valley,  where  an  elaborate  tea  was 
served.  The  President  reached  across  the  narrow  table 
to  me  to  touch  my  glass  of  champagne,  as  the  usual 
saludes  were  beginning,  and  I found  he  was  drinking  to 
the  health  of  the  “ Gran  Nacidn  del  Norte  ” Could  I do 
less  than  answer  “ Viva  Mexico”? 

After  tea,  music — the  photograph  fiends  taking  mag- 
nesium snap-shots  of  Senora  Huerta  and  the  dark-browed 
beauties  clustering  around,  with  an  incidental  head  or 
arm  of  some  near-by  diplomat.  Madame  Ortega  then 
got  up  to  say  good-by,  and  after  making  our  adieux  we 
passed  out  on  to  the  beautiful  flower-  and  palm-planted 
terrace.  Again,  in  the  dim  light  the  memory  of  Madero 
and  Pino  Suarez  assailed  me  rather  reproachfully. 
It  was  a curious  presentment  of  human  destinies, 

61 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


played  out  on  the  stage  of  the  mysterious  valley  of 
Anahuac,  which  seems  often  a strange  astral  emanation 
of  a world,  rather  than  actual  hills  and  plains.  A mys- 
terious correspondence  between  things  seen  and  unseen 
is  always  making  itself  felt,  and  now,  in  this  space  be- 
tween two  destinies,  I felt  more  than  ever  the  fathom- 
lessness of  events.  Other  “kings”  were  dead,  and  this 
one  could  not  “long  live.” 

Afterward  we  played  bridge  at  Madame  Simon’s  with 
the  chicheria  there  assembled.  It  seemed  very  banal. 
All  the  guests,  however,  turned  their  handsome  faces  and 
rustled  their  handsome  clothes  as  I entered,  and  in  a 
detached  sort  of  way  asked  how  it  had  all  gone  off — this, 
the  first  official  reception  of  their  President. 

To-day  Congress  opens,  and  N.  does  not  attend.  I 
am  glad,  in  the  interests  of  the  dove  of  peace,  that  we 
went  to  the  reception  yesterday.  The  officials  will  realize 
there  is  nothing  personal  in  to-day’s  absence. 

Last  night  there  was  a pleasant  dinner  at  the  Cardens’, 
who  are  now  settled  at  the  comfortable  Legation.  They 
are  very  nice  to  us,  but  I feel  that  Sir  L.  is  naturally 
much  chagrined  at  the  unmeritedly  adverse  press  com- 
ments he  has  had  in  the  United  States.  We  all  shivered 
in  our  evening  dresses,  in  spite  of  the  rare  joy  of  an 
open  fire  in  the  long  drawing-room.  There  is  a thin, 
penetrating,  unsparing  sort  of  chill  in  these  November 
evenings,  in  houses  meant  only  for  warm  weather. 
I should  have  enjoyed  wearing  my  motor  coat  instead  of 
the  gray-and-silver  Worth  dress. 

The  British  cruiser  squadron  under  Admiral  Cradock 
sailed  last  night  for  Vera  Cruz,  which  is  packed  to  over- 
flowing with  people  from  here.  The  prices,  “twelve 
hours  east  and  a mile  and  a half  down,”  are  fabulous. 
One  woman,  so  her  husband  told  me,  pays  ten  dollars  a 
day  at  the  Diligencias  for  a room  separated  only  by  a 

62 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


curtain  from  an  electric  pump,  which  goes  day  and 
night. 

Villa  has  made  a formal  declaration  that,  owing  to  Car- 
ranza’s inactivity,  he  assumes  the  leadership  of  the  rebel- 
lion, which  is  the  first,  but  very  significant,  hint  of  two 
parties  in  the  north.  Huerta  is  very  pleased,  it  appears, 
and  is  looking  forward  to  seeing  them  eat  each  other  up 
like  the  proverbial  lions  of  the  desert.  A few  “lost  illu- 
sions” will  doubtless  stalk  the  Washington  streets  and 
knock  at  a door  or  two. 

Well,  another  Sabbath  has  passed  and  we  are  still 
here.  Burnside  is  up  from  Vera  Cruz.  He  says  we 
can’t  back  down,  and  war  seems  inevitable.  It  will 
take  the  United  States  one  hundred  years  to  make 
Mexico  into  what  we  call  a civilized  country,  during 
which  process  most  of  its  magnetic  charm  will  go.  The 
Spanish  imprint  left  in  the  wonderful  frame  cf  Mexico 
is  among  the  beauties  of  the  universe.  Every  pink  belfry 
against  every  blue  hill  reminds  one  of  it;  every  fine  old 
fagade,  unexpectedly  met  as  one  turns  a quiet  street 
comer;  in  fact,  all  the  beauty  in  Mexico  except  that  of 
the  natural  world — is  the  Spaniards’  and  the  Indians’. 
Poor  Indians! 

I have  been  reading  accounts  of  the  deportation  of  the 
Yaquis  from  Sonora  to  Yucatan,  the  wordless  horrors  of 
the  march,  the  separation  of  families.  I can’t  go  into 
it  now;  it  is  one  of  the  long-existent  abuses  that  Madero, 
at  first,  was  eager  to  abate.  Volumes  could  be  written 
about  it.  Another  crying  shame  is  the  condition  of  the 
prisons.  Belem,  here  in  town,  is  an  old  building  erected 
toward  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century,  and  used  as 
an  asylum  of  some  kind  ever  since.  Much  flotsam  and 
jetsam  has  been  washed  up  at  its  doors,  though  I don’t 
know  that  the  word  “washed”  is  in  any  sense  suitable. 
When  one  thinks  that  a few  hundred  pesos'  of  bichloride 

63 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


of  lime  and  some  formaldehyde  gas  would  clean  up  the 
vermin-infested  corners  and  check  the  typhus  epidemics, 
one  can  scarcely  refrain  from  taking  the  stuff  there  one- 
self. It  seems  so  simple,  but  it  is  all  bound  up  so  inex- 
tricably with  the  general  laisser-aller  of  the  nation.  No 
one  is  in  Belem  three  days  without  contracting  an  itching 
skin  disease,  and  a large  proportion  of  the  prisoners 
there,  as  well  as  at  Santiago,  near  by,  are  political,  jour- 
nalists, lawyers,  et  al.,  who  are  used  to  some  measure  of 
cleanliness.  The  Penitenciaria  is  their  show  prison, 
built  on  modem  principles,  and  compares  favorably  with 
the  best  in  the  United  States. 

Yesterday  we  lunched  with  the  Osi-Sanz.  He  is  an 
agreeable,  clever,  musical  Hungarian,  married  to  a hand- 
some young  Mexican,  widow  of  an  Iturbide.  In  their 
charming  rooms  are  many  Maximilian  souvenirs  that  he 
has  ferreted  out  here;  big  portraits  of  the  emperor  and 
Carlota  look  down  from  the  blue  walls  of  the  very  artis- 
tic salon,  and  a large  copy  of  the  picture  of  the  deputa- 
tion headed  by  Estrada,  which  went  to  Miramar  to  offer 
Maximilian  the  imperial  and  fatal  crown.  Vitrines  are 
filled  with  Napoleon  and  Maximilian  porcelain,  and 
they  have  some  beautiful  old  Chinese  vases.  In  the 
viceregal  days  these  were  much  prized,  being  brought 
up  from  the  Pacific  coast  on  the  backs  of  Indian 
runners.  Afterward,  we  had  bridge  at  the  Corcuera- 
Pimentels — another  smart  young  Mexican  menage.  Their 
house,  too,  is  charming,  full  of  choice  things,  beauti- 
fully and  sparingly  placed;  the  rooms  would  be  lovely 
anywhere.  Then  home,  where  I looked  over  that  de- 
pressing book,  Barbarous  Mexico. 

In  Huerta’s  speech  before  Congress  on  the  20th,  he 
makes  use  of  the  famous  words  of  Napoleon — “The  law 
is  not  violated  if  the  country  be  saved.”  We  all  wondered 
how  he  fished  it  up ! 


64 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


There  is  a cartoon  reproduced  in  The  Literary  Digest, 
which  T am  sending  you.  In  it  Uncle  Sam  is  saying  to 
President  Wilson,  “It’s  no  use.  Woody;  you  can’t  pet  a 
porcupine,”  the  porcupine  being  Huerta,  in  the  back- 
ground, sitting  near  a bit  of  cactus.  Some  London 
papers  call  Huerta  the  “Mexican  Cromwell.”  His 
speech,  putting  patriotism  and  morality  above  expedi- 
ency, evidently  made  a hit. 


VI 


“Decisive  word”  from  Washington — A passing  scare — Conscription’s 
terrors — Thanksgiving — The  rebel  advance — Sir  Christopher  Cradock 
— Huerta’s  hospitable  waste-paper  basket. 

November  28th. 

AN  exciting  day.  The  long-looked-for  “decisive  ” word 
L came  from  Washington  this  morning,  to  be  com- 
municated this  evening  to  every  embassy  and  legation 
in  Europe.  By  to-night  all  the  foreign  representatives 
here  and  the  press  will  be  informed.  It  states  that  we 
will  not  recede  one  step  from  our  position;  that  Huerta 
and  all  his  supporters  must  go;  that  we  will  isolate  him, 
starve  him  out  financially,  morally,  and  physically; 
that  revolution  and  assassination  may  come  to  an  end 
in  Latin  America;  that  we  will  protect  our  interests  and 
the  interests  of  all  foreigners,  and  that  peace  must  be 
made  in  Mexico,  or  that  we  will  make  it  ourselves! 
It  is  the  argumentum  ad  homincm  certainly,  and  we  can 
only  wait  to  see  what  acrobatic  feats  to  avoid  the  blow 
will  be  performed  by  Huerta.  The  language  is  unmis- 
takable and  could  only  be  used  because  the  military 
force  necessary  is  behind  it  and  ready. 


November  2Qlh. 

Well,  the  scare  of  yesterday  has  passed.  * * * 

* * * Now  the  Foreign  Office  here  can  do  more 

masterly  ignoring! 

Last  month,  on  the  25th,  Huerta  signed  a decree 
increasing  the  army  to  150,000;  the  work  of  conscrip- 

66 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


tion  has  been  going  on  at  a great  rate.  After  the  bull- 
fight on  Sunday  seven  hundred  unfortunates  were 
seized,  doubtless  never  to  see  their  families  again.  Once 
far  from  Mexico  City,  they  are  not  bright  about  getting 
back.  At  a big  fire  a few  days  ago  nearly  a thousand 
were  taken,  many  women  among  them,  who  are  put  to 
work  in  the  powder-mills.  A friend  told  me  this  morn- 
ing that  the  father,  mother,  two  brothers,  and  the  sis- 
ter of  one  of  her  servants  were  taken  last  week.  They 
scarcely  dare,  any  of  them,  to  go  out  after  dark.  Post- 
ing a letter  may  mean,  literally,  going  to  the  cannon’s 
mouth. 

In  “junking”  the  other  day  I found  an  interesting 
old  print  of  the  taking  of  Chapultepec  by  the  Americans, 
September,  1847,  which  I have  fitted  into  a nice  old 
frame.  I am  keeping  it  up-stairs.  I went  to  the  Red 
Cross  this  morning  for  the  first  time  since  my  return. 
They  all  greeted  me  most  cordially  and  said  N.  was 
“muy  amigo  de  Mexico"  (“very  much  a friend  of  Mex- 
ico”). I shall  take  Wednesdays  and  Saturdays  for  my 
service. 

To-morrow  is  Thanksgiving.  I am  receiving  for  the 
Colony  and  such  of  the  chcrs  collegucs  as  care  to  help 
wave  the  Stars  and  Stripes.  It  will  be  a sort  of  census 
of  how  many  Americans  are  really  left  in  town.  Their 
number  is  fast  dwindling. 

Yesterday  was  a busy  day.  I went  to  mass  at  San 
Lorenzo,  where  the  nice  American  rector  gave  a very 
good  Thanksgiving  sermon.  I rarely  go  there,  except 
on  some  such  occasion.  It  is  far  from  the  Embassy,  and, 
though  once  in  the  best  residential  part  of  the  city,  it 
is  now  invaded  by  a squalid  Indian  and  mestizo  class. 
With  the  exception  of  San  Lorenzo,  which  is  very  clean 
(the  American  church,  as  it  is  called),  the  churches  in 

67 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


that  quarter  strike  a most  forlorn  note,  with  their  silent 
belfries  and  dirt  and  general  shabbiness. 

About  two  hundred  came  to  the  reception  yesterday, 
and  I only  wish  all  had  come.  I really  enjoyed  shaking 
those  friendly  hands.  The  times  are  uncertain,  and  ruin 
for  many  is  probable  at  any  moment.  The  rooms  were 
filled  with  flowers;  I had  a nice  buffet  and  a good, 
heady  punch.  Elim  was  dressed  in  immaculate  white. 
He  made  one  shining  appearance,  and  then  reappeared 
ten  minutes  later,  his  radiance  dimmed,  having  been 
sprinkled  accidentally  by  the  nice  Indian  gardener. 
He  was  reclad,  but  some  over-enthusiastic  compatriot 
gave  him  a glass  of  punch,  and  the  rest  of  the  afternoon 
I seemed  to  see  little  legs  and  feet  in  the  air.  The 
chefs  de  mission  all  came  also,  but  of  course  it  was  an 
American  day,  the  beloved  flag  flying  high  and  catching 
the  brilliant  light  in  a most  inspiring  way. 

Clarence  Hay  (John  Hay’s  son)  is  down  here  with 
Professor  Tozzer  and  his  bride,  for  archaeological  work. 
They  first  appeared  on  the  horizon  yesterday,  the  at- 
mosphere of  a less  harassed  world  still  hanging  around 
them,  and  were  most  welcome.  Tozzer  is  professor  of 
archaeology  at  Harvard  and  has  mapped  out  work  here 
until  May,  in  connection  with  the  Museo  Nacional.  The 
Toltec  and  Aztec  treasures  still  hidden  in  the  earth 
would  repay  any  labor. 

We  fly  up  and  down  the  Paseo  constantly.  I think 
there  is  the  fastest  and  most  reckless  motor-driving  in 
the  world  in  Mexico,  but  some  divinity  is  sleepless  and 
there  are  few  accidents.  Jesus,  our  chauffeur,  is  a gem 
of  good  looks,  neatness,  willingness,  competency,  and  skill. 
When  he  is  told  to  come  back  for  us  at  half  past  eleven, 
when  we  are  dining  out,  and  he  has  been  on  the  go  all 
day,  he  not  only  says  “good,”  but  “ very  good,”  with  a 
flash  of  white  teeth  and  dark  eyes.  The  rest  of  the 

68 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


servants  are  so-so.  If  I thought  we  were  going  to  stay 
I should  change  the  first  man.  He  ought  to  be  the  last, 
as  he  is  not  only  a fool,  but  an  unwilling  one.  As  it  is 
he  who  is  supposed  to  stand  between  me  and  the  world, 
I am  often  maddened  by  him.  He  is  Indian,  with  a dash 
of  Japanese,  not  a successful  mixture  in  his  case,  though 
he  is  supposed  to  be  honest. 

November  29th. 

I haven’t  taken  a census  of  the  inhabitants  of  the 
house.  Several  of  the  women,  I know,  have  children 
living  with  them,  but  a little  unknown  face  appeared  at 
a door  yesterday,  and  was  snatched  back  by  some  un- 
identified hand.  They  don’t  produce  them  all  at  once, 
but  gradually. 

We  had  a white  bull-terrier  given  us  seven  weeks 
old,  Juanita  by  name.  It  has  threatened  to  rain  dogs 
here  since  it  became  known  that  we  wanted  one,  but  I 
have  avoided  all  but  twro  since  returning.  Elim  looks 
sweet  playing  with  her,  two  little  milk-white  young  things. 
But  Juanita’s  stock  is  low.  She  tries  her  teeth  on  any- 
thing that  is  light-colored  and  soft,  especially  hats,  and 
faces  now  stiffen  at  her  approach. 

A bit  of  a domestic  upheaval  this  morning.  The  In- 
dian butler  with  the  dash  of  Japanese  has  been  dis- 
missed, or,  rather,  has  dismissed  himself.  His  was  a 
case  of  total  inefficiency  and  bad  temper.  I gave  him  a 
recommendation,  for,  poor  fellowr,  he  had  seen  his  best 
days  under  the  Stars  and  Stripes.  The  press-gang  will 
get  him,  and  he  will  doubtless  soon  be  on  the  way  to  the 
north.  I am  to  have  a new  butler  on  Monday. 

Later. 

I have  just  been  going  over  the  map  with  Captain 
Burnside,  and  we  have  been  tracing  the  slow  and  sure 
advance  of  the  rebels.  They  are  down  as  far  as  San 
Luis  Potosi,  not  more  than  fourteen  hours  from  here. 

6 69 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


They  manage  to  isolate  the  Federal  detachments,  one 
after  the  other,  cutting  the  railroad  lines  in  front  and 
in  the  rear.  There  is  a good  deal  of  that  northern  march 
where  one  can  go  a hundred  kilometers  without  finding 
a drop  of  water. 

I was  reading  Mme.  Calderon  de  la  Barca’s  letters — 
1840-1842 — last  night.  She  was  the  Scotch  wife  of  the 
first  Spanish  minister  after  the  Mexican  independence, 
and  her  descriptions  of  political  conditions  would  fit  to- 
day exactly,  even  the  names  of  some  of  the  generals  re- 
peating themselves.  She  speaks  of  “the  plan  of  the  Fed- 
erals,”  “the  political  regeneration  of  the  Republic,” 
“evils  now  arrived  at  such  a height  that  the  endeavors 
of  a few  men  no  longer  suffice,”  “a  long  discussion  in 
Congress  to-day  on  the  granting  of  extraordinary  powers 
to  the  President,”  “a  possible  sacking  of  the  city.”  . . . 
Our  history  here.  She  goes  on  to  say  that  they  (the  bri- 
gands) are  the  growth  of  civil  war.  Sometimes  in  the 
guise  of  insurgents  taking  an  active  part  in  the  inde- 
pendence, they  have  independently  laid  waste  the  coun- 
try. As  expellers  of  the  Spaniards  these  armed  bands 
infested  the  roads  between  Vera  Cruz  and  the  capital, 
ruined  all  commerce,  and  without  any  particular  inquiry 
into  political  opinions  robbed  and  murdered  in  all  direc- 
tions. And  she  tells  the  bon  mot  of  a certain  Mexican: 
‘ ‘ Some  years  ago  we  gave  forth  cries — gritos  (referring  to 
the  Grito  de  Dolores  of  Hidalgo).  That  was  in  the  in- 
fancy of  our  independence.  Now  we  begin  to  pronounce, 
pronunciamos  (a  pronunciamiento  is  a revolution). 
Heaven  only  knows  when  we  shall  be  old  enough  to  speak 
plainly,  so  that  people  may  know  what  we  mean.” 


December  2d. 

I go  in  the  afternoon  to  a charity  sale  at  Mrs.  Adams’s, 
for  the  “Lady  Cowdray  Nursery  Home.”  Mr.  A.  is  the 

70 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


Cowdray  representative  of  the  huge  oil  interests  in 
Mexico.  It  sometimes  looks  as  if  this  whole  situation 
could  be  summed  up  in  the  one  word,  “oil.”  Mexico 
is  so  endlessly,  so  tragically  rich  in  the  things  that  the 
world  covets.  Certainly  oil  is  the  crux  of  the  Anglo- 
American  situation.  All  the  modem  battle-ships  will  be 
burning  oil  instead  of  coal — clean,  smokeless,  no  more 
of  the  horrors  of  stoking — and  for  England  to  have  prac- 
tically an  unlimited  oil-fount  in  Mexico  means  much 
to  her. 

We  had  a pleasant  dinner  last  night  here — Clarence 
Hay,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tozzer,  and  Mr.  Seeger;  the  dinner 
itself  only  so-so.  Mr.  Seeger’s  suggestion  that  the 
guajolotc  had  been  plied  with  grape-juice  rather  than 
with  something  more  inspiring  was  borne  out  by  the 
bird’s  toughness,  and  there  were  strange,  unexplained 
intervals.  However  I impressed  upon  C.  H.  that  I was 
giving  him  this  splendid  fiesta  because  his  father  had 
signed  N.’s  first  commission  (to  Copenhagen),  and  the 
time  passed  merrily.  There  are  other  things  you  can  do 
at  dinner  besides  eating,  if  you  are  put  to  it. 

I inclose  a long  clipping,  most  interesting,  from  Mr. 
Foster’s  Diplomatic  Memoirs.  He  was  minister  here 
for  some  years — 1873-1880,  I think.  His  relations,  too, 
of  conditions  at  that  time  seem  a replica  of  these  in  our 
time:  “The  railroad  trains  always  contained  one  or 

more  cars  loaded  with  armed  soldiers.  The  Hacendados 
did  not  venture  off  their  estates  without  an  armed  guard 
and  the  richest  of  them  lived  in  the  cities  for  safety. 
Everybody  armed  to  the  teeth  when  traveling  and  the 
bullion-trains  coming  from  the  mines  were  always  heavily 
protected  by  guards.”  Mr.  Foster  sets  forth  the  actions 
of  the  United  States  in  delaying  recognition  of  Diaz  when 
he  assumed  the  Presidency,  and  tells  of  the  various  mo- 
ments in  which  we  were  on  the  brink  of  war  with  Mex- 

71 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


ico.  In  1875,  Congress  conferred  on  Diaz  “extraordi- 
nary faculties,”  the  effect  of  which  was  to  suspend  the 
legislative  power  and  make  him  a dictator. 

N.  paid  over  the  Pius  Fund,  yesterday — the  indemnity 
of  45,000  pesos  that  Mexico  is  forced  to  pay  yearly  to 
the  Catholic  Church  in  California  for  confiscation  of  its 
property  about  one  hundred  years  ago.  It  was  the  first 
decision  of  the  Hague  Tribunal.  Archbishop  Riordan, 
when  consulted  about  the  manner  of  paying  it,  tel- 
egraphed to  Mr.  Bryan  that  he  left  it  in  N.’s  hands 
to  be  disposed  of  as  if  it  were  his  own.  N.’s  policy 
has  been  to  get  the  various  foreign  powers  to  appeal  to 
us  for  protection  of  their  citizens,  thus  tacitly  acknowl- 
edging our  “Monroe”  right  to  handle  questions  that 
came  up.  So  far  France,  Germany,  Spain,  and  Japan 
have  done  so. 

December  3d. 

Yesterday,  at  four  o’clock,  Sir  Lionel  and  Sir  Christo- 
pher Cradock  were  announced.  When  I went  down- 
stairs, a few  minutes  later,  I found  my  drawing-room  a 
blaze  of  afternoon  sun,  setting  off  to  perfection  twice 
six  feet  or  more  of  Royal  British  navy — Sir  Christopher 
and  his  aide,  Cavendish,  resplendent  in  full  uniform. 
They  had  just  come  from  calling  on  Huerta  in  state,  at 
the  Palace.  I was  really  dazzled  for  the  first  moment. 
Sir  Christopher  is  a singularly  handsome  man,  regular  of 
feature,  and  of  distinguished  bearing.  His  aide,  equally 
tall  and  slender,  a younger  silhouette  of  himself,  was 
standing  by  his  side.  Britannia  rcsplcndcns!  Sir  Chris- 
topher was  evidently  very  interested  in  seeing,  at  first 
hand,  the  situation  he  is  to  “observe”  from  the  vantage 
of  Vera  Cruz.  After  a lively  half-hour  he  was  borne  off 
by  Sir  L.  for  visits  at  the  legations,  and  comparative 
darkness  fell  upon  the  room.  As  we  are  all  dining  at  the 
German  Legation,  where  there  is  a gala  dinner  for  him 

72 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


and  the  captain  of  the  Bremen  and  his  staff,  we  merely 
said  au  revoir. 

December  4th. 

The  dinner  last  night  for  twenty-four  was  most  bril- 
liant, and  perfectly  appointed,  from  the  lavish  caviar 
on  beds  of  ice  to  the  last  flaming  omelette  cn  surprise. 
We  sat  at  the  small  ends  of  the  table,  Madame  Lefaivre 
on  von  Hintze’s  right,  and  I on  his  left;  Sir  Lionel  by 
me,  and  Sir  Christopher  by  Madame  Lefaivre;  Lady 
Carden,  handsomely  gowned  and  jeweled,  at  the  other 
extreme  end,  with  the  next  ranking  men  on  either  side. 
Sir  C.,  just  opposite  to  me,  was  glistening  with  decora- 
tions and  shining  with  the  special,  well-groomed,  Eng- 
lish look.  I asked  him  if  he  hadn’t  been  afraid  to  come 
over  the  rebel-infested  mountains  with  so  much  tempta- 
tion on  his  person.  He  answered,  as  a forceful,  sporting 
look  came  into  his  eyes,  “They  wouldn’t  get  the  chance 
to  keep  anything  of  mine!”  1 

It  is  impossible  to  talk  politics;  things  are  too  delicate 
and  I imagine  we  all  have  rather  a shifty  look  in  the  eye 
at  the  remotest  mention  of  la  situacidn.  I can  see, 
however,  that  Sir  C.  has  been  impressed  by  Huerta,  and 
would  probably  have  liked  to  tell  him  to  “keep  it  up.” 
I wore  my  filmy  black  and  my  pearls,  which  combina- 
tion seemed  to  give  pleasure.  After  dinner,  and  some 
conversation  with  the  captain  of  the  Bremen,  who,  how- 
ever great  his  merit,  didn’t  have  the  clothes  nor  the  dis- 

1 Admiral  Sir  Christopher  Cradock  went  down  with  his  flag-ship,  the 
Good  Hope,  when  it  was  sunk  in  the  naval  engagement  off  Coronel,  Nov.  1 , 
1914.  In  the  gathering  darkness  of  the  tropical  ocean,  the  moon  just  rising 
over  a heavy  sea,  a great  explosion  was  observed,  according  to  Admiral 
Count  Spee’s  report,  between  the  funnels  of  the  Good  Hope,  on  which 
numerous  fires  had  already  broken  out.  Shortly  afterward  she  went  down 
in  a great  blaze,  with  her  colors  flying.  God  alone  knows  the  many  acts  of 
heroism  there  were  performed.  But  I know  that  Sir  Christopher  Cradock, 
going  to  his  death  in  flame  and  water,  did  so  with  a calm  spirit  and  a com- 
plete readiness  to  die — pro  palria. — E.  O’S. 

73 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


tinction  of  Sir  C.,  we  played  bridge — Sir  C.,  Lady  Car- 
den, Hohler,  and  myself.  Sir  C.  won  every  rubber  in  a 
nice,  quiet  way.  He  lunches  with  us  to-morrow  at  Cha- 
pul tepee  restaurant;  von  Hintze  and  his  officers,  unfor- 
tunately, are  already  engaged  for  a Colony  lunch. 


Evening. 

A full  day.  Red  Cross  work  from  ten  till  twelve, 
then  home  to  change — not  only  my  dress,  but  the  scent 
that  hung  round  me — to  go  to  Chapultepec.  Sir  C.  and 
Cavendish,  somewhat  dimmed  by  being  in  plain  clothes, 
drove  up  to  the  restaurant  just  as  I was  getting  out  of 
the  motor,  the  Belgian  minister,  Mr.  Percival,  and  the 
Cardens  coming  a few  minutes  later.  We  had  espied 
Huerta’s  auto  in  the  Park,  and  I had  the  bold  idea  of 
getting  the  President  for  lunch,  knowing  it  would  render 
things  spicy  for  Sir  C.  Heaven  was  watching  over  me, 
however,  for  instead  of  stopping  at  the  restaurant  for 
one  of  the  famous  copitas,  Huerta  passed  through  the 
Park,  disappearing  in  the  direction  of  Popotla. 

It  was  ideal  lunching  on  the  veranda,  bathed  in  the 
warm,  scented  air,  talking  of  many  things,  and  climes, 
with  the  easy  exchange  of  thoughts  that  is  the  pleasure 
of  people  of  the  world.  Sir  C.  said  that  he  had  spent 
most  of  his  time  changing  his  clothes,  since  his  arrival, 
having  come  with  nothing  between  full  uniform  and 
morning  coat.  He  had  been  to  the  Foreign  Office  that 
morning  in  uniform,  into  civilian  for  lunch,  was  to  dress 
at  three  for  some  sort  of  function  at  the  Palace,  and  then 
change  to  visit  the  castle  of  Chapultepec  and  the  cadet 
school  attached.  He  had  accomplished  all  these  labors 
when  at  six  we  met  again  at  Madame  Simon’s  for  bridge. 
His  roving  seaman’s  eye  lighted  up  and  seemed  very 
appreciative  of  the  bevy  of  handsome  young  women  he 
found  there.  Again,  with  “Cradock’s  luck,”  he  raked  the 

74 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


shekels  in.  He  said  the  visit  to  Chapultepec  and  the 
cadet  school  was  a most  thorough  proceeding,  and  that 
he  was  spared  no  crack  or  cranny  of  the  school,  of  which, 
however,  the  Mexicans  are  justly  proud. 

There  is  a reception  at  the  Legation  for  the  English 
colony  to-night,  and  to-morrow  early  he  descends  to  the 
sea.  Sir  C.  has  distinguished  himself  in  many  climes 
and  will,  I imagine,  get  a bit  restless  at  Vera  Cruz,  wait- 
ing for  something  to  happen.  He  directed  the  British, 
American,  Japanese,  and  Italian  forces  for  the  relief  of 
Tientsin.  He  has  yet  to  learn  that  no  outside  force  can 
hurry  events  in  Latin  America.  They  happen  from  their 
own  momentum,  in  their  own  way.  I have  an  idea  he  is 
a full-fledged  Huertista,  but,  oh!  so  nice  about  it  all. 
He  is  ranking  officer  to  Admiral  Fletcher,  which  might, 
at  any  moment,  make  complications.  How  can  Brit- 
tannia  rule  the  waves  in  the  sacred  territorial  waters  of 
the  Monroe  doctrine?  But  it  is  always  the  same.  On  all 
international  occasions  our  admirals  find  themselves 
outranked,  even  by  navies  of  inferior  powers.  The 
highest  rank  our  officers  on  active  duty  can  attain  is 
rear-admiral.  They  bring  up  the  rear  in  more  senses 
than  one,  while  all  other  forces  have  vice-admirals  and 
admirals  available  for  any  little  trips  that  seem  expedi- 
ent. 

December  5th. 

I am  sending  this  off  by  the  German  boat  Ypiranga. 
We  have  given  up  going  to  Vera  Cruz  on  Saturday. 
People  say  that  it  is  impossible  for  us  to  do  so  without 
creating  a panic.  No  one  would  really  know  that  we 
had  left  a hostage  in  the  shape  of  the  blue-eyed  boy.  I 
felt  rather  in  the  mood  to  go,  after  the  visit  of  Sir  Chris- 
topher, who  painted  the  harbor  of  Vera  Cruz  in  most 
attractive  colors. 

Huerta  is  gradually  getting  rid  of  his  Cabinet.  Garza 

75 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


Aldape,  Gobernacion,  went,  as  I wrote  you,  and  now 
de  Lama  (Hacienda)  is  to  go  to  Paris  by  the  Ypiranga. 
I don’t  imagine  Huerta  has  much  to  do  with  his  Cabinet. 
They  fill  up  certain  conventional  spaces  usual  in  govern- 
ments, and  that  is  all — a sort  of  administrative  furniture, 
along  with  the  tables  and  chairs.  Burnside  said  to-day 
that  when  Huerta  really  has  a Cabinet  meeting  it  con- 
sists of  himself  and  advisers  in  the  shape  of  copitas.  He 
has  just  got  full  powers  from  “Congress”  to  put  into  ef- 
fect any  orders  he  may  give  in  military  and  naval  matters 
for  the  next  year.  He  pays  no  attention  to  Washington 
and  it  is  rather  difficult  to  do  anything  with  a person  w'ho 
acts  as  if  you  were  non-existent.  The  ultimata  con- 
tinue to  go  into  the  waste-paper  basket,  and  Vera  Cruz 
is  so  full  of  war-ships  that  those  yet  to  come  will  have  to 
stay  outside  the  harbor.  The  Rhode  Island,  the  Suffolk, 
and  the  Conde  have  the  best  places  available  for  the  big 
ships.  The  rest  of  the  harbor  is  taken  up  with  gunboats. 


VII 


Huerta  visits  the  Jockey  Club — Chihuahua  falls — “The  tragic  ten  days” 
— Exhibition  of  gunnery  in  the  public  streets — Mexico’s  “potential 
Presidents” — “The  Tiger  of  the  North.” 

December  6th. 

THE  position  here  gets  more  curious  every  day. 

Public  opinion,  as  we  understand  it,  is  non-existent 
in  Mexico.  It  is  always  some  despot  who  brings  some 
sort  of  order  out  of  chaos  by  means  unknown  (though 
they  may  be  suspected)  to  the  public,  who  judge  his 
worth  entirely  by  the  degree  of  peace  and  prosperity 
that  follows. 

N.  was  sitting  with  some  of  the  males  of  the  “First 
Families”  of  Mexico,  in  the  Jockey  Club,  this  morning, 
when  in  sailed  Huerta.  He  knew  none  of  the  jeunesse  or 
viellesse  dorte.  He  stood  looking  around  him  for  a mo- 
ment, blinking  as  he  suddenly  came  into  the  light. 
N.  espied  him,  wrent  over  to  him,  and  then  made  the  nec- 
essary presentations,  Huerta  hanging  on  his  arm.  After 
the  first  shock  of  his  entrance  there  was  a rallying  around 
him.  He  doesn’t  belong  to  the  club,  but  that,  of  course, 
doesn’t  make  any  difference  to  him;  he  feels  himself 
President  and  superior  in  brain,  will,  and  achievement. 
N.  ordered  copitas,  and  the  visit  went  off  with  the  snap 
peculiar  to  all  of  Huerta’s  sorties.  After  all,  he  is  their 
President. 

I send  you  a copy  of  Life,  with  an  editorial  on  Mexico. 
It  remarks  that,  asking  the  Mexicans  (13,000,000  being 
Indians)  to  elect  a President  by  constitutional  methods 

77 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


is  “like  asking  the  infant  class  to  select  a teacher.” 
There  is  no  doubt  that  our  ways  don’t  yet  fit  them.  It’s 
like  dressing  sonny  up  in  father’s  clothes! 

Another  military  train  blown  up.  We  were  all  hoping 
that  the  rumored  shortage  in  dynamite  among  the  rebels 
would  make  railway  travel  more  attractive.  Also  stories 
of  mutilations  that  cause  one  to  shiver. 

The  reason  some  of  the  newspapers  give  for  the  almost 
groveling  attitude  of  the  Powers,  and  their  acquiescence 
in  our  exclusive  tutelage  in  Mexico,  is  that,  according  to 
international  law,  we  will  be  responsible  for  the  millions 
they  are  losing,  and  that,  at  the  appointed  hour,  they 
intend  to  press  Uncle  Sam  with  the  bill — the  French,  the 
English,  the  Germans,  and  the  Spaniards. 

Lunch  to-day  at  the  French  Legation.  Very  pleasant, 
as  always.  I sat  next  to  Corona,  governor  of  the  Fed- 
eral District,  a handsome,  highly  colored,  dark-eyed  man 
in  the  prime  of  life.  His  wife  and  daughter  are  in  Paris. 
There  is  such  a sense  of  the  transitoriness  of  the  officials 
in  Mexico,  here  to-day  and  gone  to-morrow,  that  inter- 
course seems  very  bootless;  the  sword  of  Damocles  is 
not  only  hanging,  but  falling  all  the  time.  May  was  also 
there,  as  pessimistic  and  politically  wrought  up  as  usual. 

My  big  salon  begins  to  look  very  home-like.  I have 
some  lovely  lamps  made  of  single,  big,  brass-and-silver 
church  candlesticks,  many  exquisite  Ravell  photographs 
of  this  marvelous  land  finally  fitted  into  good  old  frames. 
I had  the  smart  young  Mexican  set  in  for  bridge  to-day. 
They  were  asked  for  five,  which  is  a little  early  for  them, 
and  they  didn’t  begin  to  arrive  until  six.  Lovely  young 
women  with  beautiful  jewels  and  dresses  to  set  off  their 
dark  beauty;  Senora  Bernal,  Senora  Amor,  Senora  Cor- 
cuera,  Duquesa  de  Huette  (her  husband  is  a handsome, 
polo-playing  Spaniard),  Senora  Cervantes,  Senora  Riba 
’ — two  or  three  of  them  enceinte,  as  is  usual.  They  made 

78 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


the  rooms  quite  radiant.  The  Mexican  men  are  often 
put  in  the  shade  by  their  handsome  wives,  who  would  be 
lovely  anywhere.  The  difficulties  of  bringing  up  young 
boys  here  are,  for  obvious  reasons,  so  great  that  both 
Mexicans  and  foreigners  send  their  sons  away  at  an 
early  age.  The  men  we  know  have  most  of  them  been 
at  school  in  England  (Beaumont,  or  Stonyhurst) ; and 
their  English  is  as  good  as  ours — sometimes  better. 
There  is  a sort  of  resigned  irritation,  veiled  by  perfect 
courtesy  and  unfailing  amiability,  on  the  part  of  these 
people  toward  our  policy,  which  seems  to  them  cruel, 
stupid,  and  unwarranted.  I can  only  hope  it  will  soon 
bear  testimony  to  itself,  for  this  close  watching  of  the 
means  to  an  end — if  it  be  an  end — is  very  wearing. 

December  8th. 

A very  nice  letter  came  from  Mr.  Lind  this  morning. 
He  says  that  Villa  boasts  he  will  eat  his  dinner  at  the 
Jockey  Club,  and  he  thinks  there  may  be  something  in  it, 
adding  that  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  progress  of  the  reb- 
els he  would  have  gone  home.  Chihuahua  is  in  their 
hands  now,  and  their  military  man  is  installed  in  the 
house  formerly  occupied  by  the  Federal  governor  of  the 
state. 

Last  night  I had  a long  talk  with  Burnside  and  Ryan 
after  dinner.  There  is  a general  expectancy  of  a cuarte- 
lazo  (revolution  in  the  barracks)  on  the  ioth.  The  troops 
are  paid  every  ten  days,  and  this  will  be  the  second  pay- 
day to  be  passed  over,  unless  Huerta  can  raise  the  neces- 
sary millions  before  that  time.  Many  influences  besides 
the  United  States  are  at  work  to  make  things  uncertain; 
sedition  is  rife,  and  the  work  of  the  press-gang  is  so  con- 
stant that  the  peons  do  not  dare  to  leave  their  homes  or 
their  holes  to  go  to  work. 

Revolutions  are  not  convenient,  either  for  those  who 

79 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


watch  or  for  those  who  participate.  The  hegira  of 
natives  and  foreigners  continues.  The  Mexicans  who 
can  get  away  are,  without  doubt,  thankful  “there  is  no 
place  like  home.” 

I can’t  agree  that  the  foreign  representatives  could 
be,  at  any  time,  in  real  peril.  Huerta,  Carranza,  Zapata, 
Villa,  or  the  intervening  United  States  troops  would  see 
to  it  that  not  a diplomatic  hair  was  touched.  I can 
imagine  us  all  tightly  housed  in  the  Palacio,  with  our 
infants  and  our  jewels,  the  rest  of  our  belongings  gone 
forever.  Dr.  R.  is  for  having  every  woman  and  child 
leave  Mexico  City,  things  have  come  to  such  a pass.  I 
know  one  who  won’t  go! 

N.  is  thinking  of  telegraphing  to  Washington  to  ask  to 
have  a few  marines  sent  up  from  one  of  the  war-ships,  en 
civil,  of  course.  We  could  lodge  them  easily  down-stairs. 
The  losing  of  material  things  does  not  disturb  me.  When 
the  bad  day  comes  we  will  be  occupied  with  life  and 
honor.  “Todo  por  la  patria ” (“all  for  one’s  country”), 
which  reminds  me  of  the  story  of  Huerta’s  parting  with 
a one-time  Minister  of  War,  and  one  of  the  various  men 
supposed  to  have  witnessed  Madero’s  death.  (Another 
distinction  is,  that  in  six  weeks’  office  he  was  able  to 
amass  a fortune  of  some  millions,  quite  a record.)  The 
President  told  him,  at  a dinner,  casually,  that  it  might  be 
better  for  his  health  to  leave  next  day  for  Paris.  He 
cried,  “Impossible!”  The  upshot,  of  course,  was  that 
Huerta  saw  him  off  at  the  station  at  the  appointed  hour, 
saying,  as  he  embraced  him:  “Todo  por  la  patria,  mi 
General /”  whereupon  the  victim,  not  to  be  outdone,  re- 
peated in  his  turn:  “ Todo  por  la  patria,  mi  General!” 

People  have  curious  stories  to  tell  of  the  “tragic  ten 
days,”  among  them  little  ways  of  handling  the  machine- 
guns.  Ryan  came  across  a group  of  men  who  were  hov- 
ering about  one  of  the  mitrailleuses,  and  the  man  in 

80 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


charge  obligingly  started  it  off,  to  show  them  how  it 
worked — shooting  down  the  street  in  the  direction  in 
which  it  happened  to  be  turned.  Rather  debonair!  Mr. 
Seeger  tells  the  tale  of  asking  a man  at  a gun  who  his  jejc 
was — Huertista,  Maderista,  Felicista?  He  answered, 
“I  don’t  know.”  He  saw  him,  a moment  afterward, 
turn  the  gun  around  and  shoot  toward  the  opposite  bar- 
ricade. Enemy  or  friend,  it  was  all  the  same  to  that 
“man  behind  the  gun!” 


December  7th. 

I was  at  Tacubaya  this  morning,  to  see  the  operation 
and  cure  for  tuberculosis  of  a strange  Brazilian,  a 
Dr.  Botelho.  Rows  of  emaciated  Indians,  stripped  to 
the  waist,  were  lying  or  sitting  in  the  sun.  The  opera- 
tion is  a painless  injection  of  hydrogen  gas  into  the  lung, 
compressing  it  so  that  microbes,  as  my  lay  mind  under- 
stands it,  don’t  get  the  space  they  need  to  develop.  As 
the  patients  lay  about  they  seemed  to  me  like  exotic 
vegetation,  ready  to  drop  to  earth,  rot,  and  spring  up 
again.  Strange  Indian  seed! 

After  Mass  I found  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Hayes  (the  for- 
mer a son  of  ex-President  Hayes) , waiting  to  see  us.  They 
are  here  for  a few  days  only.  I have  asked  them  to  dine 
with  us  to-morrow  evening. 

The  foreign  Powers  used  to  think  that,  though  ex- 
tremely annoying,  our  Monroe  doctrine  was  respectable. 
Now  they  seem  inclined  to  think  it  is  an  excuse  for  mon- 
opolizing the  New  World  for  our  own  benefit.  We  may 
come  into  Mexico  with  glory.  Can  we  get  out  with 
credit  and  not  too  high  a bill?  A letter  from  General 
Wisser  (you  remember  him,  from  Berlin)  came  just  now, 
written  “In  Camp,  Texas  City.”  It  had  taken  a little 
matter  of  two  months  to  get  here.  It  is  not  impossible 
I may  welcome  him  to  Mexico  City. 

81 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


December  9th. 

The  aftermath  of  that  reception  at  Chapultepec  has 
begun  to  come  in.  Among  many  letters,  one  from  an 
ex-army  officer  says  he  would  have  “thrown  the  wine 
into  Huerta’s  face.”  All  the  newspapers  mention  the  in- 
cident, but  with  the  empire  tottering  we  saw  no  reason  to 
unduly  precipitate  matters  by  boycotting  Mme.  Huerta’s 
reception,  nor  for  being  morose  and  brutal  when  there. 
I wonder  what  would  have  happened  if  any  of  the 
various  fools,  writing  to  protest,  had  been  running 
matters  ? 

One  of  the  New  York  newspapers  prints  a long  editorial 
headed  “ O’Shaughnessy,  ” saying  President  Wilson  is  for- 
tunate in  having  had  the  services  of  Mr.  O’S.  during  the 
diplomatic  negotiations  with  Mexico.  It  presents  the 
matter  as  I would  like,  and  winds  up  by  saying  that  the 
history  of  Mexican-American  diplomacy,  to  be  complete, 
would  need  more  than  one  chapter  headed  “O’Shaugh- 
nessy.” 

The  dinner  for  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Hayes  was  rather 
amusing,  though  the  food  was  horrid  and  everything  was 
cold  except  the  champagne.  After  dinner  the  visit  of 
two  potential  Presidents  of  Mexico  (they  are  always  be- 
ing drawn  to  the  Embassy  like  steel  to  the  magnet  of 
recognition)  gave  a decided  touch  of  local  color  to  the 
scene.  A large,  handsome,  alert  man,  of  the  flashy  type 
— Zerafino  Dominguez — came  first.  His  battle-cry  and 
banner  is  ‘ ‘ Land  for  the  landless,  and  men  for  the  men- 
less  lands” — a good,  sound,  agricultural  cry  with  every- 
thing in  it,  if  it  could  only  come  true.  “ El  apostol  del 
maiz,”  as  he  sometimes  is  called,  is  a wealthy  landowner 
and  scientific  farmer,  who  contends  that  Mexico  needs 
more  corn  rather  than  more  politics — and  never  was  a 
truer  word  spoken.  He  has  within  the  last  few  days, 
however,  given  up  his  presidential  pretensions  to  a friend 

82 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


who  came  in  later,  with  the  same  desire  of  the  moth  for 
the  star. 

The  shape  of  the  friend’s  head,  however — narrow  across 
the  forehead  and  terminating  in  a high  peak — would 
prevent  his  getting  any  votes  from  me.  The  pale  young 
son  of  the  hearty  Dominguez  was  also  there.  I offered 
them  cigarettes  and  copitas;  the  latter  they  did  not 
accept.  Burnside  said  it  was  to  prove  they  hadn’t  the 
weaknesses  of  Huerta.  I thought  they  might  be  afraid 
to  drink,  remembering  afterward  that  none  of  us  had 
offered  to  partake  with  them  of  the  possibly  poisoned 
draught.  They  sang  the  praises  of  the  great  and  beauti- 
ful Estados  Unidos  del  Norte  till  we  were  quite  embar- 
rassed. Incidentally  “ze  American  womans”  came  in 
for  a share  of  admiration.  I wonder  shall  we  be  giving 
Huerta  asylum  some  day? 

December  nth. 

Yesterday  I was  too  busy  to  write;  spent  the  morning 
at  the  Red  Cross,  and  then  had  luncheon  at  Coyoacan,  at 
Mrs.  Beck’s  charming  old  house.  Coyoacan  is  the  most 
interesting,  as  well  as  livable,  of  all  the  suburbs,  with  its 
beautiful  gardens  and  massive  live-oaks  shading  the 
streets.  Cortes  made  Coyoacan  his  stamping-ground, 
and  one  lovely  old  Spanish  edifice  after  the  other  recalls 
his  romantic  history. 

From  here  he  launched  his  final  assault  against  Mex- 
ico City;  here  poor,  noble  Guauhtemoc  (I  have  an  old 
print  representing  him  with  his  feet  in  boiling  wrater  and 
an  expression  of  complete  detachment  on  his  face)  was 
tortured,  in  vain,  to  make  him  reveal  the  hiding-place 
of  Montezuma’s  treasure.  After  leaving  Mrs.  B.’s,  Mrs. 
Kilvert  and  I went  for  a stroll  in  the  garden  of  the  cele- 
brated Casa  de  Alvarado,  built  by  him,  of  the  famous  leap. 
An  old  servidor  of  Mrs.  Nuttall’s,  to  whom  the  house  now 
belongs,  opened  the  gate  for  us,  with  a welcoming 

83 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


smile.  We  passed  through  the  patio,  in  one  comer  of 
which  is  the  old  well  (with  a dark  history  connected  with 
the  murder  of  the  ■wife  of  one  of  the  Conquerors),  out 
into  the  garden  with  its  melancholy  and  mysterious 
charm.  The  possession  of  the  house  is  supposed  to  bring 
bad  luck  to  the  possessors,  and  sudden  and  violent 
death  has  happened  to  a dweller  there  even  in  my  time. 
Roses  and  heliotrope  and  the  brilliant  drapeaux  Espa- 
gnoles,  with  their  streaks  of  red  and  yellow,  were  running 
riot,  and  a eucalyptus-tree  drooped  over  all.  In  this 
magic  land,  even  a few  months  of  neglect  will  transform 
the  best-kept  garden  into  some  enchanted  close  of  story. 

As  I was  getting  out  of  the  auto  in  front  of  the  Em- 
bassy, I found  sitting  on  the  curb  a pitiful  family  of  five 
— four  children  of  from  seven  years  to  eighteen  months, 
and  the  mother,  who  was  about  to  have  another  child. 
The  father  had  been  taken  by  the  press-gang  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  they  were  in  the  streets.  I gave  the  woman  some 
money,  and  one  of  the  maids  brought  out  bread  and  cake, 
and  a bundle  of  garments  for  the  children.  Such  bright- 
eyed little  girls,  real  misery  not  having  pinched  them 
yet.  I speak  of  them  because  they  typify  thousands  of 
cases.  A hand  on  his  shoulder,  and  the  father  is  gone 
forever!  Such  acts,  occurring  daily,  estrange  possible 
sympathy  for  the  government.  The  woman  will  return 
to  me  when  the  money  is  spent. 

There  are  Federal  rumors  of  a split  between  Villa  and 
Carranza,  but,  though  they  will  inevitably  fight,  I don’t 
think  the  time  is  ripe  for  it,  and  they  are  some  five  hun- 
dred kilometers  apart,  which  makes  for  patience  and 
charity.  Villa,  whose  latest  name  is  the  “Tiger  of  the 
North,’’  has  made  such  daring  and  successful  military 
moves  that  Carranza  must  put  up  with  him.  He  has 
just  married  again,  during  the  sacking  of  Torreon  (a 
detail,  of  course,  as  was  also  his  appearance  at  a ball  in 

84 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 

puris  nataralibus — a shock  to  the  guests,  even  in  revo- 
lutionary Mexico!) 

I only  heard  at  luncheon  at  the  Russian  Legation  that 
Count  Peretti,  conseiller  of  the  French  embassy  in 
Washington,  is  leaving  for  Paris  to-night,  by  the  Na- 
varre. He  married  when  cn  poste  here  a handsome  Mexi- 
can wife.  This  letter  goes  with  him.  On  Saturday  we 
dine  at  Lady  Carden’s.  The  dinner  is  given  for  Colonel 
Gage,  the  handsome  and  agreeable  British  military 
attach 6 & cheval  between  Washington  and  Mexico  City. 

The  fight  around  Tampico  continues,  the  town  being 
indeed  “between  the  devils  and  the  deep  sea.”  No  one 
yet  knows  the  outcome,  except  that  the  unoffending 
blood  of  the  Mexican  peon  is  reddening  the  soil.  The 
Kronprinzessin  Cecilie  is  down  there  to  take  off  refugees; 
also  the  Logican,  and  we  are  sending  the  Tacoma  and  the 
Wheeling.  I understand  that,  though  some  hundreds 
have  been  taken  on  board,  about  five  hundred  unfortu- 
nates are  still  waiting  on  the  pier  in  the  neutral  zone. 

I must  begin  to  arrange  my  Christmas  tree  for  the 
few  friends  remaining  in  this  restless,  distant  land,  with 
some  little  gift  for  each. 

December  I2tk. 

To-day  is  the  Feast  of  the  Virgin  of  Guadalupe,  the 
patroness  of  Mexico  and  of  all  the  Lupes.  For  the 
last  few  days  the  mysterious  Indian  world  has  been 
hurrying  to  the  shrine  from  far  and  near.  I went  out 
there  this  morning  with  dear  Madame  Lefaivre  and  Mr. 
de  Soto.  The  crowd  was  immense,  the  same  types,  cos- 
tumes, habits,  language,  gestures,  even,  that  Cortes 
found  on  his  arrival,  unmodified  (and  unmodifiable, 
which  Washington  cannot  understand)  by  four  hundred 
years  of  surrounding  civilization.  Our  motor  gliding 
along  the  straight  road  was  quite  out  of  the  note  and 
picture.  Many  of  the  Indians  were  doing  the  distance 
7 85 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


between  the  city  and  Guadalupe,  several  kilometers,  on 
their  knees,  with  bowed  heads  and  folded  hands.  Ma- 
dame Lefaivre  found  it  trds-beau,  but  was  glad  that  no 
voice  told  her  that  to  save  her  soul,  or,  what  is  more 
important,  her  Paul’s  soul,  she  would  have  to  do  likewise. 

The  plaza  before  the  church  was  thronged  with  a 
brightly  clad,  motley  crowd,  venders  of  all  sorts  pre- 
dominating, mostly  selling  candles  and  votive  offerings 
of  strange  kinds.  Hundreds  of  tortilleras  were  sitting  on 
their  haunches  before  their  primitive  braziers,  piles  of 
dough  ( masa , they  call  it)  in  their  laps,  molding  the 
tortillas  with  a slapping  noise  of  the  palms — an  old, 
inherited  gesture,  and  pinching  them  into  shape  with 
their  slender,  graceful  fingers.  The  church  itself,  as  we 
pressed  in,  was  crowded  to  suffocation,  almost  every  one 
holding  a candle  of  some  length  and  thickness.  The 
high  altar  was  a blaze  of  light,  the  celebrated  image 
above  visible  to  all.  It  is  the  famous  Imogen  de  la  Virgen, 
stamped  miraculously  on  the  tilma  (coarse  cloth  mantle) 
of  a lowly  Indian,  Juan  Diego,  as  the  Virgin  appeared  to 
him  passing  the  rock  of  Tepeyac  on  his  way  to  Tlaltelolco, 
to  receive  instructions  in  the  mysteries  of  the  Faith. 
The  sacred  image  is  placed  above  the  high  altar  in  a 
gold  frame,  and  there  is  a gleaming,  solid  silver  stair- 
railing leading  up  both  sides. 

In  the  middle  aisle  were  double  files  of  young  Indian 
girls,  with  bright-colored  scarfs  about  their  shoulders, 
and  strange,  high,  picturesque-looking  head-dresses,  of 
gaudy  tissue-paper,  with  trimmings  of  gold.  They  were 
chanting  monotonous  minor  songs,  accompanied  by  a 
swaying,  dance-like  movement  of  the  hips — all  most  rev- 
erent. They  had  been  there  for  hours  and  showed  no 
sign  of  leaving.  I hope  I said  a reverent  prayer,  but  I 
felt  a bit  cheap  in  contrast  to  the  rapt  devotion  on  all 
sides.  I was  glad  to  get  a breath  of  fresh  air  in  the  plaza, 

86 


VILLA  DE  GUADALUPE 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


or  rather,  “fresher,”  as  it  was  almost  as  crowded  as  the 
church,  and  every  dog  in  Mexico  seemed  to  be  there, 
scratching  and  shaking  itself. 

We  made  our  way,  Mr.  de  Soto  clearing  a path  for  us, 
to  the  Capilla  del  Pocito.  These  waters  are  said  to  have 
gushed  from  under  the  feet  of  the  Virgin  as  she  appeared 
to  Juan  Diego.  A la  the  fountain  of  Trevi,  whoever 
drinks  of  it  returns  to  Mexico.  We  didn’t  drink,  for 
various  reasons  unconnected  with  return.  The  Indians 
use  it  for  healing  purposes  and  a lively  trade  in  brightly 
painted,  earthem-ware  bottles,  in  which  to  carry  the 
water  away,  was  going  on  about  the  chapel.  The  Indi- 
ana come,  sometimes  a many  days’  journey,  on  foot, 
of  course,  and  when  they  arrive  they  bivouac  all  about 
the  church  as  if  they  had  reached  “home.”  What  with 
babies  crying,  beggars  begging — “por  la  Virgen ,”  “por 
la  Santa  Madre  de  Dios ” — dogs  yapping  and  venders 
hawking,  the  wThole  dominated  by  the  acrid  smell  of  the 
various  pungent  messes  they  roll  up  in  their  tortillas,  it 
was,  indeed,  Indian  life  at  its  flood.  They  must  have  pre- 
sented much  the  same  scene  when  they  gathered  to  re- 
ceive instruction  and  baptism  from  the  old  friars. 

The  “Aztec  wheels ” (merry-go-rounds)  and  all  kinds 
of  games  of  chance,  to  which  they  are  addicted,  help  to 
get  the  centavos  out  of  the  Indian  pocket;  but  it  is 
their  greatest  holiday,  this  journey  to  their  “Virgen  In- 
dia de  Tepeyac,”  and  they  count  no  cost  of  fatigue  and 
savings.  I only  hope  the  press-gang  will  abstain  to-day 
from  doing  any  of  its  deadly  work  of  separating  fami- 
lies. You  remember  I once  did  a novena  out  there  with 
Senora  Madero,  praying  for  graces  that  Heaven  did  not 
grant. 

In  the  afternoon  we  went  to  the  Reforma  Club,  the 
British  country  club,  where  Sir  Lionel  and  Lady  Carden 
were  to  present  the  prizes  for  the  contests.  Senora 

87 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


Huerta,  always  dignified  and  quiet,  sat  between  Lady  C. 
and  myself.  She  had  a married  daughter  with  her,  high- 
chested and  thick-lipped,  clad  in  a changeable  green-and- 
red  surah  silk  and  a hat  with  bedraggled  pink  feathers. 
Senora  Huerta  herself  wore  black  velvet,  with  touches  of 
white  in  the  wrong  places.  She  has,  I imagine,  natural 
taste  in  dress,  but  must  first  learn.  She  has  seen  much 
of  life.  So  many  children  and  a soldier  husband  always 
starting  for  some  seat  of  war,  and  now  at  last  President 
of  “glorious,  gory  Mexico,”  means  that  few  of  the 
human  experiences  are  foreign  to  her.  I must  say  I have 
a great  esteem  for  her.  The  President  was  not  well — • 
el  estomago.  Of  course  every  one  jumps  to  the  conclusion 
that  he  had  been  consorting  too  freely  with  his  friends 
Martell  and  Hennessy.  It  isn’t  given  to  him  to  have  a 
simple  indigestion ! Afterward  we  left  cards  at  the  houses 
of  various  Lupes. 

December  13th. 

I feel  ill  at  the  news  this  morning.  The  Federals  seem 
to  have  taken  many  positions  from  the  horrible  rebels; 
and  the  fratricidal  war  will  take  on  a new  strength  with- 
out hope  of  issue  on  either  side.  I feel  the  cruelty  and  the 
uselessness  of  our  policy  more  and  more  every  day. 
The  “fine  idealism”  does  not  prevent  the  inhabitants 
from  being  exterminated.  Why  don’t  we  come  in? 
Or — hands  off,  and  give  Huerta  a chance! 

The  Mexicans  have  never  governed  themselves,  and 
there  is  no  reason  to  suppose  they  can  till  a part  of  the 
eighty-six  per  cent,  that  can’t  read  have  at  least  learned  to 
spell  out  a few  words.  The  much  vaunted  and  pledged 
rights  of  man,  voting  and  abiding  by  the  results,  are 
unknown  and,  as  long  as  Mexico  is  Mexico,  unknowable. 
So  why  lose  time  in  that  search  for  the  impossible? 
The  rebels  seem  to  be  able  to  take  the  towns,  but  not  to 
hold  them.  Once  in  the  various  strategical  positions 

88 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


they  are  in  the  same  plight  as  the  Federals;  and  so  the 
see-saw  continues,  with  no  results  except  horrors  be- 
yond words.  I am  tempted  to  hope  for  intervention 
(unnecessary  though  it  once  was),  no  matter  what  the 
cost. 

There  are  so  many  plays  and  puns  and  doggerels  on 
the  inviting  name  of  O’Shaughnessy.  One  Shamus 
O’S.  says  he  won’t  admit  the  man  in  Mexico  who  bears 
the  Frenchy  name  of  charge  d'affaires  to  the  family! 
However,  why  worry?  The  last  viceroy  bore  the  noble 
name  of  Juan  O’Donoju!  Another  calls  N.  the  man  that 
put  the  “O”  in  Mexico.  And  they  do  love  a head-line : 
“Hugged  by  Huerta”;  or  “Is  it  not  better  to  be  kissed 
than  kicked  when  you  deliver  the  periodical  ultimatum?” 
Of  such  slender  things  fame  is  made. 

December  14th. 

My  poor  woman  with  the  four  children  returned  yes- 
terday, having  got  to  the  end  of  the  money  I gave  her 
a few  days  ago.  They  didn’t  look  quite  as  prosperous  ( ?) 
as  they  did  the  first  time  I saw  them.  The  mother  asked 
for  five  dollars  for  a fruit  license  and  two  dollars  to  get 
the  fruit.  I gave  it  to  her,  whereupon  she  knelt  down 
in  the  street,  baby  in  arms,  the  three  other  little  girls 
following  suit,  and  asked  for  my  blessing.  When  I put 
my  hand  on  her  head  I felt  the  tears  come  to  my  eyes. 
I suddenly  saw  in  one  woman  all  the  misfortunes  of  the 
women  of  this  land,  separation,  destitution,  ravishments, 
— all  the  horrors  flesh  is  heir  to. 

In  the  evening  we  dined  at  the  British  Legation. 
Colonel  Gage  is  most  agreeable  and  brought  a lot  of 
outside  news.  Like  all  military  visitors,  I suppose  he 
is  hoping  to  happen  on  a “scrap.” 

Am  waiting  for  the  auto.  Elim  and  I go  out  to  the 
del  Rios’  garden  at  Tlalpam  for  a picnic;  the  del  Rios 
are  in  Europe.  The  day  is  heavenly  beyond  compare 

89 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


and  the  Ajusco  hills  (in  which  the  Zapatistas  operate) 
are  soft  and  blue  in  the  near  distance.  We  all  miss  Mr. 
James  Brown  Potter  very  much.  He  was  the  witty, 
unfailing  life  of  all  those  picnics  of  my  first  Mexican 
visit. 

Villa  has  just  set  up  a somewhat  uncertain  dictator- 
ship in  Chihuahua,  in  which  state  he,  so  to  speak, 
graduated  in  banditry.  He  began  his  public  killing 
career  not  too  badly,  according  to  the  story,  by  shooting 
a man  for  seducing  his  sister.  It  was  probably  the  best 
act  of  his  life.  He  is  now  in  the  prime  of  life  and  “ready 
for  anything.”  Even  in  Diaz  days,  Villa  was  a pro- 
scribed bandit;  but  with  a few  followers,  well-mounted 
and  knowing  every  trail  and  water-hole  in  the  country, 
he  was  uncatchable.  He  subsequently  went  over  to 
Madero.  The  women  flee  the  towns  that  he  and  his 
men  enter.  I suppose  there  is  no  crime  that  he  has  not 
committed,  no  brutality  toward  wounded,  sick,  and 
prisoners  and  women.  With  it  all,  he  may  be  the 
heaven-born  general  that  some  assert,  but  God  help 
Mexico  if  he  is!  In  Chihuahua,  Luis  Terrazas,  one  of 
the  nephews  of  Enrique  Creel  (who  was  ambassador  to 
Washington,  Minister  for  Foreign  Affairs,  etc.),  is  being 
held  for  five  hundred  thousand  dollars  ransom.  Mr.  C. 
came  to  see  N.  the  other  day,  looking  very  much  put  out. 
N.  thought  he  perhaps  reflected  that  five  hundred  thou- 
sand dollars  was  a large  sum,  and  was  wondering  if  it 
was  worth  it. 

However,  it  is  always  convenient  to  suppose  that 
people  held  for  ransom  will  get  along  all  right,  even  if 
the  money  isn’t  forthcoming.  N.  promised  Mr.  C.  that 
through  the  most  indirect  of  channels  he  would  have  it 
brought  to  Villa’s  attention  that  he’d  better  be  careful 
on  account  of  unfavorable  impressions  in  the  United 
States.  One  wonders  and  wonders  where  Villa,  Aguilar, 

90 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


Zapata,  and  all  the  brigands  get  their  endless  guns  and 
ammunition.  Of  course  the  foreign  Powers  think  we 
supply  it  or  let  it  be  supplied. 

Intervention  in  Mexico  is  an  accomplished  fact,  it 
would  almost  seem,  though  not  a shot  has  been  fired 
by  us.  And  what  is  done  cannot  be  undone. 


VIII 


The  sad  exodus  from  Chihuahua — Archbishop  Mendoza — Fiat  money — 
Villa’s  growing  activities — Indian  stoicism — Another  Chapultepec  re- 
ception— A day  of  “Mexican  Magic”  in  the  country. 

December  14th. 

THIS  evening,  as  I was  coming  through  the  Zocalo 
motoring  home  from  the  Country  Club,  I found  the 
Palacio  decked  out  in  the  national  colors,  to  celebrate  the 
clausura  of  the  Camara , which  will  not  open  until  April  i, 
1914.  Huerta  has  all  extraordinary  powers  vested  in 
himself,  and  is  going  to  run  the  whole  “shooting-match.” 
Thick  defiles  of  carriages  and  autos,  full  of  richly  dressed 
people,  were  on  both  sides  of  San  Francisco,  the  most 
brilliantly,  extravagantly  lighted  street  I know.  The 
Embassy  motor  was  allowed  to  run  quickly  between  the 
two  lines.  The  town  seemed  so  animated  and  prosper- 
ous that  one  can’t  realize  the  horrors  underneath. 

The  cantinas  have  been  closed  on  Sunday  for  several 
months — a wise  act  of  Urrutia,  then  Minister  of  Gober- 
nacion.  The  people  thus  buy  food,  instead  of  pulque,  on 
the  Sabbath,  and  can  work  on  Monday — San  Lunes,  as 
the  first,  often  idle,  day  of  the  week  is  called.  The  pul- 
querias,  with  their  sickening,  sour  smell,  abound  in  all  the 
poorer  quarters,  and  are  distinguished,  besides  the  smell, 
by  fringes  of  many-colored  tissue-paper  hanging  from  the 
tops  of  the  doors.  Their  names — El  amor  divino,  Hija 
del  Mar,  El  Templo  de  Venus,  etc.,  seem  to  be  enticing. 

The  Italian  minister,  Cambiaggio,  is  “biding  a wee” 
in  Havana,  having  been  stopped  by  his  government.  . . . 

92 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


It  is  the  question,  always  recurring,  of  not  having  a new 
minister  arrive  who,  by  presenting  his  credentials,  places 
another  stone  in  the  Huerta  arch.  . . . 

The  confidential  report  of  Admiral  Cradock  to  his 
government  was  filched  by  the  press.  The  typewriter 
who  made  the  copy  was  paid  $200  for  it.  In  it,  it  ap- 
pears, he  quotes  Nelson  as  saying  that  the  “most  sacred 
international  relationship  in  the  world  is  that  between 
England  and  the  United  States.”  Most  annoying  for 
Sir  Christopher! 

December  15  th. 

Many  of  the  American  statesmen  seem  to  be  giving 
opinions  on  the  Mexican  situation.  Mr.  Choate,  at  a 
dinner  in  New  York,  asks,  “What  most  agitates  the 
hearts  of  Americans  to-day?  It  is  Mexico,”  and  then 
goes  on  to  say,  “There  is  but  one  thing  for  us  to  do — 
trust  the  President,  and  stand  by  him.”  Andrew  D. 
White  doesn’t  approve  of  the  Administration’s  policy 
and  thinks  we  are  drifting  into  war,  “Which,”  he  con- 
tinues, “is  a better  thing  for  the  generals  who  bring  it 
to  a successful  finish  than  for  those  who  bring  it  on — 
Lincoln  being  the  great  exception.” 

The  Spaniards  in  Chihuahua  (some  four  or  five  hun- 
dred) are  having  a dreadful  time.  The  Villista  order 
gives  them  ten  hours  in  which  to  get  out  of  the  town; 
and  now,  as  I write,  that  long  caravan  of  weak  and  strong, 
old  and  young,  fit  and  unfit,  is  wending  its  way,  on  foot, 
through  the  immense  desert  of  Chihuahua  toward  Tor- 
reon — 425  miles.  The  nights  are  icy  cold  and  there  are 
stretches  of  90  miles  without  water;  and  hostile  bands  are 
ready  to  attack  at  any  moment.  The  confiscated  prop- 
erty will  amount  to  millions,  as  the  Spaniards  own  nearly 
all  the  mercantile  establishments,  as  well  as  the  upper- 
class  homes.  Villa  is  quoted  as  saying  that  he  would  like 
to  kill  every  gachupin  (Spaniard  born  in  Mexico)  and 

93 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


his  offspring.  No  one  knows  when  the  march  and  as- 
sault on  Monterey,  a rich  old  city  on  a hill  and  not  easy 
to  take,  will  begin.  I hear  that  the  Spaniards  there  want 
to  come  en  masse  to  Mexico  City,  also  leaving  every- 
thing. They  know  they  will  have  no  quarter  at  Villa’s 
hands. 

The  Spaniards  are  the  traders  of  Mexico.  They  keep 
the  countless  pawn-shops  ( empenos ) ; they  are  the 
usurers  and  money-lenders  of  all  kinds;  they  are  the 
overseers  on  the  haciendas  and,  incidentally,  they  keep 
all  the  grocery-shops;  in  fact,  they  control  the  sale  of 
nearly  everything  in  Mexico.  The  Spanish  minister 
(with  the  Irish  name  of  Cologan),  whose  handsome  wife 
was  born  in  Vera  Cruz,  has  just  been  here.  His  life  is 
one  huge  burden,  and  the  collective  troubles  of  Mexico 
are  laid  at  our  broad  doors. 

D’Antin  leaves  to-night  for  Vera  Cruz,  to  take  with 
him  Dr.  Silva  (ex-governor  of  Michoacan),  who,  to  tell 
the  truth,  has  not  voluntarily  resigned,  which  is  the 
reason  he  needs  safe-conduct.  Silva  was  at  one  time  a 
faithful  adherent  of  Huerta.  He  is  to  board  a Spanish 
ship  sailing  at  twelve  to-morrow. 

December  16th. 

Last  night,  after  dinner,  Burnside  and  Dr.  Ryan  took 
the  map  to  see  what  route  the  unfortunate  Spaniards  of 
Chihuahua  could  have  followed.  It  seems  scarcely  cred- 
ible, with  the  frontier  and  hospitality  nearly  one-half 
nearer,  that  they  should  have  chosen  the  terrible  march 
through  the  desert  and  over  the  mountains  to  Torreon, 
which,  at  any  time,  may  again  fall  into  Villa’s  hands.  He 
would  be  in  a rage  to  find  he  had  to  bother  a second  time 
with  the  same  set  of  unfortunates ! They  say  their  route 
is  strewn  with  valuables  that  they  started  out  with  and 
little  by  little  were  obliged  to  abandon.  Isn’t  the  pic- 
ture appalling? 


94 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


Von  Hintze  has  just  spent  an  hour  here;  he  is  always, 
like  the  others,  advocating  the  mediation  of  The  Hague, 
saying  it  would  be  a way  out  of  our  dilemma,  and  an  issue 
out  for  Huerta.  Is  he  on  the  track  of  something  that 
may  be  of  service  to  both  sides?  In  Washington  a couple 
of  weeks  ago  it  was  suggested  from  some  source  (probably 
Brussels)  that  the  matter  should  be  so  submitted — both 
sides,  however,  resenting  it.  Von  Hintze  brought  me 
a dainty,  gold-headed  cane  to  replace  his  handsome 
Chinese  stick  that  was  supposed,  unjustly,  to  have  dis- 
appeared under  the  protection  of  the  Stars  and  Stripes, 
on  Thanksgiving  Day.  I made  up  my  mind  to  get  that 
cane,  and  I subsequently  found  it,  accidentally,  standing 
near  the  unused  umbrella-stand  at  the  Norwegian  Le- 
gation, where  he  had  left  it  himself  that  same  day.  The 
innocent  was,  for  once,  rewarded.  Von  Hintze  is  always 
very  fair-minded  and  impersonal  in  political  matters,  and 
doesn’t  lose  his  head  when  the  political  compass  veers 
as  wildly  as  it  does  here.  He  is  a good  friend,  too,  I 
think,  and  there  may  be  something  in  the  Hague  sug- 
gestion. We  may,  at  any  day,  see  another  faction  start 
up;  the  victor  of  Torreon,  Juarez,  and  Chihuahua  will 
not  care  to  lay  his  victories  at  Carranza’s  feet.  One  man 
after  another  outshines  his  chief,  commits  treason, 
comes  to  power,  and  falls  to  make  way  for  some  one  else, 
generally  a one-time  friend.  As  the  clever  editor  of  the 
Mexican  Herald  dryly  remarked,  “A  traitor  in  Mexico 
seems  to  be  any  one  that  doesn’t  hold  office.” 

The  Zapatistas  are  getting  very  active  again,  fighting 
hard  at  Milpa  Alta,  in  the  Ajusco  hills  near  here.  Some 
were  seen  at  Tlalpam  and  Xochimilco  (Tlalpam  is  where 
we  often  go  on  Sundays).  Sometimes  on  the  road  to  the 
Country  Club  or  Tlalpam  one  hears  the  shooting. 

All  is  quiet  again  at  Tampico,  though  the  dead  are  yet 
lying  about  unburied.  The  rebels  got  far  into  the  town, 

95 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


but  did  very  little  damage  to  property.  They  wanted, 
people  think,  to  get  hold  of  a lot  of  the  rolling  stock  of 
the  railway.  Tampico  is  a horrible,  flat,  mosquito- 
infested,  malarial  place,  but  it  can  give  to  the  navies  of 
the  world  the  motive  power  that  they  want.  It  is  the 
focus  of  the  guerre  des  petroles.  Is  it  really  true  that  oil 
is  at  the  back  of  all  these  tragedies? 

At  the  dinner  at  the  British  Legation  on  Saturday 
there  was  an  Englishman,  a Mr.  Graham,  who  has  a place 
near  Durango.  He  told,  as  an  eye-witness,  the  story  I 
had  heard  before,  of  one  of  the  rebel  chiefs  seizing  the 
aged  and  saintly  archbishop  Mendoza  while  at  the  altar, 
forcing  him  to  walk  two  miles  over  stubble  fields,  in  the 
heat  of  the  day,  then  putting  him  in  a damp  and  filthy 
cell,  two  feet  by  six.  Mr.  Graham  gave  a bond  for 
$15,000,  and  he  was  got  out.  This  is  but  one  of  a 
thousand  stories  to  the  shame  of  the  rebels. 

December  17th.  v 

Villa  has  finished  the  confiscation  of  the  huge  Terrazas 
estates  in  Chihuahua.  We  hear  that  the  wife  of  the 
American  consul,  Mrs.  Letcher,  is  among  the  refugees 
at  El  Paso.  The  Terrazas  estates  include  palatial  resi- 
dences in  the  city  of  Chihuahua,  banks,  mines,  lands, 
cattle,  etc.  Luis  Terrazas  is  now  a refugee  in  the  United 
States.  His  sister,  known  as  the  “Angel  of  Chihuahua,” 
by  reason  of  her  endless  charities,  married  Mr.  Creel,  for- 
mer Ambassador  to  Washington.  It  is  Mr.  Terrazas’s 
eldest  son  who  is  held  against  a 500,000  pesos’  ransom, 
having  been  taken  forcibly  from  the  British  Vice-Con- 
sulate. 

Yesterday  the  run  on  the  Banco  Nacional  and  the 
Banco  de  Londres  y Mexico  for  the  exchange  of  certain 
bank-notes,  no  longer  good,  was  enormous.  Many  shops 
are  hanging  out  signs  that  notes  of  Chihuahua,  Coa- 

96 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


huila,  Queretaro,  Guanajuato,  etc.,  will  not  be  accepted 
from  customers.  The  richer  refugees  coming  in  from 
Chihuahua  had  hundreds  of  thousands  of  such.  Oh,  for 
a few  wicked  cicntificos! 

A lot  of  trouble  about  the  Constitutionalist  fiat  money 
is  beginning  in  the  north.  Merchants  who  fight  shy  of  it 
are  put  into  jail,  regardless  of  nationality.  Its  appear- 
ance, to  a careful,  thrifty  man,  must  be  appalling.  Bills 
have  only  one  signature,  and  any  one  holding  them  forges 
the  missing  signatures,  or  the  nearest  and  most  inter- 
ested jefe  politico  affixes  the  stamp  of  his  jefatura.  The 
drawback  is  that  it  is  difficult  to  get  merchandise  or  food 
in  exchange.  When  is  money  not  money?  That  way 
lies  economic  ruin. 

Huerta  talks  a good  deal  about  Napoleon  these  days — 
“ gran  hombre,  gran  hombre!"  (“a  great  man!  a great 
man!”).  In  a recent  speech  he  said:  “We  have  a right 
to  our  independence,  and  we  will  keep  it.  If  any  attack 
is  made  against  the  country,  all  will  witness  something 
great  and  extraordinary.”  Villa,  Carranza,  Huerta 
(Zapata,  too,  the  chance  offered),  delight  in  ignoring  the 
United  States.  On  that  point,  all  are  united.  The  re- 
covery of  Torreon  has  had  immense,  though,  of  course, 
only  temporary,  economic  importance.  The  huge  cotton 
crop  which  Villa  picked  when  he  took  the  town,  pressing 
into  service  every  man,  woman,  and  child,  and  thinking 
to  sell  it  to  the  United  States,  has  been  shipped  by  the 
Federals  to  various  cotton-mills,  and  means  work  for 
thousands. 

There  are  sometimes  really  bright  things  in  the  Mexi- 
can Herald.  To-day,  about  the  United  States  protection 
of  citizens,  it  says:  “Mr.  Bryan’s  idea  of  protection 

seems  to  be  built  on  the  cafeteria  plan — come  and  get 
it.  We  don’t  carry  it  to  you.” 

Cambiaggio,  the  new  Italian  minister,  will  be  de- 

97 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


tained  indefinitely  in  Havana,  Italian  affairs  in  the  mean 
while  being  in  the  hands  of  the  British.  I wonder  how 
long  the  foreign  Powers  will  be  willing  to  wait  and  watch. 
What  they  say  about  our  policy  when  N.  and  I are  not 
present  is  probably  not  according  to  the  protocol! 

December  17th. 

Another  reception  is  to  be  held  at  Chapultepec  this 
afternoon.  I keep  thinking  of  the  four  incumbents  who 
have  lived  and  breathed  and  had  their  being  there  since 
we  arrived — Diaz,  de  la  Barra,  Madero,  and  Huerta. 
With  the  exception  of  the  first  two,  each  lived  in  a sep- 
arate society.  The  members  of  one  don’t  spill  over 
into  the  other.  At  Senora  Huerta’s  reception  there  was 
not  a face,  except  those  of  the  chers  collegues,  that  I had 
ever  seen  there  before — no  homogeneity,  no  esprit  de 
corps.  “No  me  gusta”  (“I  don’t  like  it”)  seems  a suf- 
ficient reason  for  not  standing  by  the  administration, 
whatever  it  may  be. 

It  is  strange  how  little  trace  is  left  of  those  who  have 
lived  there,  suffered,  and  grown  great.  There  is  scarce- 
ly a Maximilian  souvenir  or  a Diaz  recuerdo,  not  a thing 
of  de  la  Barra,  nor  any  vestige  of  Madero,  except  his 
planchette  and  his  library,  consisting  of  vegetarian  and 
spiritualistic  literature,  which  confronts  Dona  Carmen 
Diaz’s  collection  of  works  of  piety.  Of  course  there  is 
nothing  of  Huerta;  his  shadow  has  scarcely  even  dark- 
ened it.  It  was  planned  in  a most  extravagant  way  in 
1 783  by  one  of  the  viceroys,  Galvez,  who  had  the  beauti- 
ful, white-skinned,  red-haired  bride.  It  was  unoccupied 
during  many  revolutionary  years,  then  refitted  for  Maxi- 
milian. Later  Diaz  used  it  as  his  summer  residence.  Poor 
Madero  lived  there  during  the  sixteen  months  of  his  in- 
cumbency, and  I remember  him  pacing  up  and  down 
the  terrace  in  that  robin-egg-blue  vest  of  his,  with  a vis- 

98 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


ionary  but  indestructible  smile  on  his  honest  face ; really 
mentally,  as  well  as  bodily,  lifted  above  all  the  realities 
of  life. 

The  “Hill  of  the  Grasshopper”  has  always  had  a hab- 
itation on  it.  Montezuma  lived  there,  “king  and  gentle- 
man,” and  many  of  the  old  ahuehuetes1  are  supposed  to 
be  contemporaneous  with  him.  At  any  rate,  the  view 
that  entrances  my  eyes  is  the  same  that  his  looked  on. 
The  whole  valley  stretches  out  before  one,  fringed  by 
those  lovely  mountains.  Sunsets,  sometimes  in  golden 
tones  and  sometimes  in  silver,  flood  the  valley,  giving  the 
white  points  of  the  volcanoes  the  most  dazzling  effects  of 
light  imaginable;  and  then  there  are  luminous  enchant- 
ments, dissolving  distances,  an  intermingling  crystalline 
blue  and  rose.  How  can  I express  its  beauty!  People 
say  the  light  is  more  wonderful  in  Greece,  but  this  is  my 
“high  light.”  Even  in  the  afternoons  of  the  rainy  season, 
when  the  clouds  are  banked  high,  there  is  alwrays  an  iri- 
descence to  the  grays — gray  with  red  or  blue  or  yellow 
or  violet  in  it — never  the  dull  tones  of  our  rain-clouds. 


December  18th. 

Just  back  from  a gira  in  the  city.  Immense  crowds 
around  the  Banco  Central.  This  is  the  clearing-house 
for  all  the  state  banks,  and  each  person  waiting  outside 
had  state  bank-notes  to  exchange  against  those  more 
attractive  ones  of  the  Banco  Nacional. 

I see  Cardinal  Rampolla  is  dead.  I thought  of  his  mag- 
nificent appearances  in  St.  Peter’s,  that  tall  and  slender 
form,  that  proud  and  beautiful  profile,  the  head  held 
high — a fit  frame  on  which  to  hang  the  gorgeous  vest- 
ments. I remember  the  disappointment  of  our  various 
friends  when  Austria  vetoed  his  election  at  the  last  con- 


1 Live-oak — Mexican  cypress. 
99 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


clave.  I wish  he  might  have  had  it ; but  now  that  he  has 
passed  through  the  door  I would  not  call  him  (nor  any 
one)  back.  The  old  Roman  days  came  so  vividly  to 
my  mind — and  many  besides  Rampolla  who  are  no 
more. 

Elim  is  sitting  by  me,  writing  in  two  colors  all  the 
words  he  knows — Gott,  kuss,  bonnemaman,  papa,  mama. 
He  has  just  asked  * ‘ Who  handed  me  down  from  the  clouds 
when  I was  born?” 

I am  giving  a luncheon  at  the  Chapultepec  restaurant 
on  Friday  for  Colonel  Gage  and  the  Cardens. 

The  Mexican  papers  take  great  pleasure  in  likening 
Woodrow  Wilson  to  Napoleon  III.,  with  comparisons  of 
the  Mexican  policy  and  Sedan! 

The  reception  yesterday  did  not  have  the  snap  and  go 
of  the  first.  We  got  there  about  six,  going  in  almost  im- 
mediately to  tea,  spread,  as  usual,  in  the  long  gallery.  I 
stood  at  the  table  between  von  Hintze  and  Hedry,  the 
Austrian  charge. 

It  seemed  to  me,  as  I looked  around  the  table,  that 
each  minister  had  some  strange,  battered-looking  female 
by  him.  They  proved  to  be  the  wives  of  Cabinet  Min- 
isters, who  change  so  fast  that  it  is  impossible  to  keep 
track  of  their  better  halves,  produced  only  on  this  single 
occasion.  Moheno,  however,  was  able  to  produce  a 
very  pretty  wife,  smartly  dressed,  with  magnificent 
pear-shaped  emeralds  dangling  from  her  white  ears, 
and  a most  lovely  young  daughter. 

The  President  was  preoccupied  and  vague,  drank  no 
healths,  and  his  frock-coat  seemed  longer  and  looser  than 
ever;  indeed,  the  servants  had  just  begun  to  pour 
the  champagne  when,  his  wine  untasted,  Huerta  gave 
his  arm  to  Mme.  Lcfaivre,  with  a gesture  of  putting  the 
function  behind  him,  and,  the  banquet  almost  untouched, 
we  all  filed  out  behind  him.  He  was  evidently  terribly 

ioo 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


bored  and  thinking  of  other  things.  And,  anyway,  he 
isn’t  the  man  to  conduct  things  twice  in  the  same  way. 
He  stopped  as  he  was  leaving  the  salon  and  told  me  he 
had  rnuchas  may  buenas  cosas  (many  good  things)  to  say 
of  N.  “Only  good  things,  even  in  my  absence.”  With 
that,  he  left  the  festive  scene  and  the  affair  rather  fell  to 
pieces.  N.  had  a dinner  at  the  club  for  Colonel  Gage, 
who  was  at  the  reception  in  morning  coat.  He  had  pur- 
posely not  brought  his  uniform,  being  wary  at  touching 
the  official  note,  which  might  re-echo  too  loudly  in 
Washington. 

I went  to  the  Simons’,  who  were  having  a dinner  for 
the  captain  of  the  Condt  and  his  staff  lieutenant.  They 
were  big,  good-looking  Frenchmen,  who  had  been  at  the 
reception  in  all  their  glory  of  gold  braid  and  decorations. 
Through  a motor  trip  and  a punctured  tire  they  had 
missed  the  audience  arranged  for  them  by  their  minister 
with  Huerta,  and  to  atone  they  had  gone  looking  espe- 
cially official. 

Yesterday  I went  out  to  see  Mother  Semple  at  the 
American  Convent  of  the  Visitation.  Until  two  years 
ago  she  had  had  a large  and  flourishing  school  at  Tepex- 
pam.  There  came  a Zapatista  scare,  thirty  or  forty 
bandits  dancing  around  the  convent  one  night,  shooting 
off  pistols  and  screaming  out  ribaldries.  Fortunately 
nothing  precious  was  broken,  but  the  nuns  were  ruined,  as 
the  parents  withdrew  their  little  darlings.  Now  they 
are  trying  to  get  the  school  together  again  in  a house  at 
Tacubaya,  which,  though  very  picturesque,  with  an 
old  garden  and  a sunny  patio,  is  not  at  all  suited  to  the 
double  purpose  of  community  life  and  school.  They 
have  dreams  of  selling  the  big  property  at  Tepexpam  for 
a barracks.  The  government  may  get  the  barracks 
in  these  days  of  taking  what  one  sees,  but  I doubt  if 
the  nuns  will  ever  get  the  money. 

8 ioi 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


December  iglh. 

Mexican  calls  all  the  afternoon.  Mme.  Bernal  has  a 
really  lovely  house,  just  done  over,  full  of  choice  things. 
She  herself  is  young  and  beautiful,  in  a dark-eyed,  white- 
teethed,  pallid  way.  Then  I went  to  see  Mercedes  del 
Campo,  whom  I found,  with  her  baby  and  an  Indian 
nurse,  in  the  palm-  and  eucalyptus-planted  garden.  She, 
like  all  the  others,  is  young  and  handsome.  Her  husband 
was  in  the  diplomatic  service  under  Diaz,  but  since  then 
has  fought  shy  of  the  administration  set.  It’s  a pity,  as 
he  would  be  an  ornament  to  any  service.  Such  beauti- 
ful English — such  perfect  French! 

They  are  living  in  the  house  of  their  aunt,  Madame 
Escandon,  in  the  Puente  de  Alvarado,  the  street  named 
after  this  most  dashing  of  Cortes’  captains.  It  was  near 
by  that  he  made  his  famous  leap  in  the  retreat  of  the 
NocheTriste;  the  “dismal  night,”  when  the  Indians,  wit- 
nessing his  apparently  miraculous  escape,  thought  him  a 
god.  A little  farther  up  from  the  Escandon  house  is  the 
celebrated  Palacio  Bazaine  or  Casa  de  la  Media  Luna. 
It  was  presented,  with  all  its  luxurious  furnishings,  by 
the  Emperor  to  Marshal  Bazaine,  on  the  day  of  his 
splendid  nuptials  with  a beautiful  Mexican.  Here  the 
Emperor  and  Carlota  were  often  received,  and  it  became 
the  center  of  the  fashionable  life  of  the  time.  There  are 
many  stories  of  the  extravagant  and  almost  regal  enter- 
taining that  went  on  there.  Now  all  these  splendors  are, 
indeed,  gone  up  in  smoke;  the  stately  mansion  is  a cig- 
arette-factory. I never  pass  it  without  a thought  of 
Maximilian  and  the  “Ya  es  hora”  of  the  guard  who 
threw  open  the  prison  door  of  the  Capuchin  Convent  in 
Queretaro  on  that  fatal  morning,  and  of  Bazaine’s  saddest 
of  all  sad  ends. 

The  luncheon  for  Colonel  Gage,  who  returns  to  Wash- 
ington next  week,  went  off  very  snappily.  When  I got 

102 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


to  Chapultepec  I found  all  my  guests  assembled  on  the 
veranda.  I excused  my  lateness  by  saying  that  I had 
been  waiting  for  N.,  who  was  with  the  President.  “But 
the  President  is  here!”  they  all  cried.  I said,  “I  wonder 
if  he  would  lunch  with  us.”  They  all  looked  aghast,  but 
delighted  at  my  boldness. 

I then  saw  Huerta  approaching  us  through  the  large 
hall  toward  the  veranda,  with  the  governor  of  the 
Federal  district,  Corona,  and  a pale,  dissipated,  clever 
man — for  the  moment  (which  I imagine  he  is  making 
golden)  Minister  of  Communicaciones.  I went  for- 
ward with  some  6lan,  as  to  a charge,  and  invited  the 
President  to  the  fiesta.  That  small  Indian  hand  of 
his  waved  very  cordially.  It  is  literally  the 'velvet 
hand,  whatever  violent  deeds  it  may  have  done.  But 
he  said  that  he  had  a junta  of  much  importance;  he 
would  be  delighted  to  accept  another  time,  and  so  on. 
There  was  more  shaking  of  velvet  hands,  and  we  went 
back  to  our  expectant  guests,  who  were  decidedly  dis- 
appointed. It  was  very  pleasant,  as  always,  on  the 
broad  veranda,  looking  toward  the  Castle,  visible  above 
the  great  branches  of  the  century-old  ahuahuetes. 

N.  had  been  driving  with  the  President  for  an  hour 
before  lunch,  and  had  asked  him  for  the  release  of  three 
Americans,  long  imprisoned  here.  Huerta  assured  him 
that  they  should  all  be  set  free,  whether  guilty  or  not,  just 
to  please  him;  and  at  six  o’clock  this  evening  the  first 
instalment  arrived  at  the  Embassy,  delivered  into  N.’s 
hands  by  two  Federal  officers.  And  so  the  work  goes  on. 
Huerta  is  very  prime-sautier.  Once  before  when  N.  had 
asked  for  the  punishment  of  some  soldiers,  convicted  of 
deeds  of  violence  against  some  Americans,  he  responded 
promptly : * ‘ Who  are  they  ? Where  are  they  ? They  shall 
all  be  killed!”  N.  protested,  aghast  at  the  possibly  in- 
nocent untried  sheep  suffering  with  the  guilty  goats. 

103 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


Anything,  however,  to  please  N.  in  particular  and  the 
United  States  in  general.  There  is  really  nothing  that 
the  United  States  couldn’t  do  with  Huerta  if  they  would. 
All  concessions,  all  claims,  pending  through  decades, 
could  be  satisfactorily  adjusted.  As  it  is,  Huerta  keeps 
on  at  his  own  gait,  not  allowing  himself  to  be  rushed  or 
hustled  by  the  more  definite  energy  of  the  Republica  del 
Norte,  playing  the  game  of  masterly  inaction  and  scoring, 
for  the  time  being,  on  Washington.  After  all,  you  don’t 
get  any  “forwarder”  by  waving  copies  of  the  constitu- 
tion in  a dictator’s  face.  He  ignores  his  relations  with 
the  United  States,  never  mentioned  us  in  his  speech  to 
Congress,  and  probably  put  the  ultimatum  into  the 
waste-paper  basket.  I am  beginning  to  think  that,  in 
the  elegant  phrasing  of  my  native  land,  he  is  “some” 
dictator!  The  New  York  Sun  speaks  admiringly  of  the 
way  in  which  he  continues  to  treat  Mr.  O’Shaughnessy 
with  a friendly  and  delicate  consideration. 


December  20th. 

Red  Cross  all  the  morning.  It  is  wonderful,  the  sto- 
icism of  the  Indian,  where  pain,  hard  pain,  is  concerned. 
A rather  amusing  incident  occurred  to-day.  I asked  a 
man  who  had  had  his  hand  shot  off  if  it  were  a “Zapa- 
tista,” “Constitucionalista,”  or  “Hucrtista”  deed.  He 
raised  the  other  paw  to  his  forehead,  answering  with  great 
exactitude,  “No,  senora,  Vasquista.”  I thought  the 
Vasquista  movement  had  long  since  died  the  usual  un- 
natural death. 

I see  that  the  new  Austrian  minister  to  Mexico  has 
arrived  in  the  United  States  en  route  for  his  post,  and  the 
new  Italian  minister  arrives  at  Vera  Cruz  to-morrow, 
after  a wait  of  three  weeks  at  Havana,  for  “our  health,” 
not  his.  As  is  the  custom,  some  one  from  the  protocol 
has  gone  to  meet  him  and  bring  him  up  to  the  city.  The 

104 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


European  Powers  evidently  mean  to  carry  out  their 
program  independent  of  “watchful  waiting.”  It  will 
be  rather  hard  on  our  government  when  two  more 
representatives  of  great  nations  present  their  credentials 
to  the  “Dictator.” 

People  say  it  is  a pity  that  Huerta  did  not,  on  assum- 
ing power,  declare  formally  that  he  would  have  a dicta- 
torship for  two  years,  until  such  time  as  the  country  was 
pacified,  leaving  out  entirely  any  question  of  elections. 
However,  that  is  “hindsight.”  Apropos  of  Villa,  I see 
one  of  the  United  States  papers  chirps:  “Is  a new  sun 
rising  in  Mexico?”  I have  seen  several  rise  and  set  on 
the  reddest  horizon  imaginable,  in  my  short  Mexican 
day.  As  a butcher  Villa  cannot  possibly  be  surpassed. 
But  “who  loves  the  sword  shall  perish  by  the  sword,”  is 
always  true  here.  I spent  the  morning  at  the  Red  Cross, 
washing  and  bandaging  dirty,  forlorn  Aztecs.  This  year 
they  have  the  beds  made  according  to  our  ideas.  Last 
year  they  used  the  blankets  next  the  body  and  the  sheet 
on  top — it  “looked  better.” 

Calls  and  card-leaving  all  the  afternoon,  with  Mme. 
Lefaivre,  fortunately.  We  generally  do  the  “bores  and 
chores”  together,  chatting  between  addresses.  Now  it 
is  half  past  nine.  I am  looking  over  one  of  Gamboa’s 
books.  He  was  Minister  for  Foreign  Affairs  last  August 
when  Mr.  Lind  arrived,  and  drafted  the  famous  and  en- 
tirely creditable  answer  to  “Mr.  Confidential  Agent.” 
He  is  sometimes  called  the  Zola  of  Mexico. 


December  21st. 

Just  home  from  Mass.  I go  to  the  Sagrado  Corazon 
near  by,  built  mostly  with  money  given  by  the  muy 
piadoso  Lascurain,  a man  of  the  highest  integrity  and 
large  personal  fortune.  For  a long  time  he  was  Minister 

io5 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


for  Foreign  Affairs,  and  for  twenty  minutes  (as  I wrote 
you),  President,  between  Madero  and  Huerta. 

I am  now  writing,  veiled  and  gloved,  waiting  for  the 
picnickers  to  assemble  here.  About  ten  or  twelve  of  us 
are  going  to  Mme.  Bonilla’s  lovely  garden  in  Tacubaya. 


Evening. 

We  had  a peaceful  dia  de  campo  in  the  old  garden,  the 
strange  Mexican  magic  making  beautiful  things  more 
beautiful  and  transfiguring  all  that  is  ordinary.  Mme. 
B.,  an  Englishwoman  and,  incidentally,  a cordon  bleu, 
was  sitting  under  a yellow  rose-bush  when  we  got  there 
— looking  very  attractive  in  white  lace  and  beating  up 
the  sort  of  sauce  you  make  yourself,  if  you  can,  or  go 
without,  in  Mexico.  We  partook  of  an  excellent  com- 
bined luncheon — we  all  brought  something — under  an 
arbor  of  honeysuckle  and  roses,  with  true  Mexican  lack 
of  hurry.  Afterward  we  strolled  over  the  near  hillside 
in  its  garb  of  maguey  and  pepper  trees.  The  volcanoes 
looked  inexpressibly  white  and  beautiful  in  their  aloof- 
ness from  our  troubles,  though  the  hills  at  their  base  are 
the  stamping-grounds  of  hordes  of  Zapatistas,  and  often 
the  smoke  of  fires  indicates  their  exact  whereabouts. 
With  true  Anglo-Saxon  disregard  of  native  warnings, 
we  sat  for  a long  time  under  a large  pepper-tree,  arbol  de 
Peru,  which,  the  Indians  say,  gives  headache,  unable  to 
take  our  eyes  from  the  soft  outline  of  the  city,  swimming 
in  the  warm  afternoon  light.  Countless  domes  and 
church  spires  were  cut  softly  into  the  haze,  the  lake  of 
Texcoco  was  a plaque  of  silver  far  beyond,  and  above  all 
were  the  matchless  volcanoes.  To  complete  the  first 
plan  of  the  picture,  an  old  Indian,  a tlachiquero,  was 
quietly  drawing  the  juice  from  some  near-by  maguey 
plants,  after  the  fashion  of  centuries,  with  a sort  of 
gourd-like  instrument  which  he  worked  by  sucking  in 

106 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


some  primitive  but  practical  fashion.  It  looks  to  the 
uninitiated  as  if  the  Indian  were  drinking  it,  but  its  final 
destination  is  a pigskin  slung  athwart  his  back.  After 
tea  in  the  garden,  on  which  a mystical  blue  light  had 
fallen,  we  motored  home  in  the  quickly  falling  dusk, 
the  thin,  chilly  air  penetrating  us  like  a knife. 

Advices  have  come  that  the  rebels  are  again  attack- 
ing Tampico.  They  evidently  got  what  they  wanted  at 
the  last  attack — four  cartloads  of  dynamite  and  lots  of 
rolling  stock,  and  are  in  a position  to  give  a tidy  bit  of 
testimony  as  to  the  value  of  the  Constitutionalist  prin- 
ciples. 

Zapata  had  a narrow  escape  the  day  before  yesterday. 
He  was  surprised  by  Federals  at  Nenapepa,  as  he  and 
his  followers  were  sitting  around  their  camp-fire.  He 
barely  escaped  in  the  skirmish,  leaving  behind  him  his 
precious  hat,  a big,  black,  Charro  hat,  wide-brimmed  and 
pointed  crown,  loaded  with  silver  trimmings.  It  was 
brought  to  town  by  Colonel  Gutierrez,  greatly  chagrined 
because  he  could  not  also  bring  what  had  been  under  the 
hat.  The  image  of  Zapata  on  his  charger,  dashing 
through  fields  of  maguey,  up  and  down  barrancas,  is  very 
characteristic  of  the  brigand  life  so  much  the  thing  in 
Mexico  just  now. 

The  new  loan  of  20,000,000  pesos  has  been  under- 
written by  a lot  of  foreign  bankers,  principally  French, 
I think,  though  some  in  New  York  are  supposed  to  be 
“involved.”  It  will  keep  things  going  for  another  couple 
of  months  or  so,  and  then  the  “sorrows  of  Huerta”  will 
begin  again.  As  it  is,  he  can  continue  for  that  length  of 
time  to  play  with  the  kindergarten  class  at  Washington. 
A nice  cable  came  from  Mr.  Bryan  saying  that  the  State 
Department  was  much  gratified  at  N.’s  being  able  to 
procure  the  release  of  the  American  prisoners  I men- 
tioned. 


107 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


December  24th. 

The  banks  here  have  been  given  legal  holidays  from 
the  2 2d  of  this  month  to  the  2d  of  January.  That  is 
one  way  of  solving  the  banking  problem.  It  is  supposed 
to  be  for  the  safeguarding  of  the  depositors,  who,  how- 
ever, are  crowding  the  streets  leading  to  the  closed 
banks,  wild  to  get  out  what  they  put  in,  to  confide  it  to 
the  more  trust-inspiring  stocking. 

To-day  is  Huerta’s  saint’s  day,  Sanctus  Victorianus. 
There  was  a reception  of  the  gentlemen  of  the  Diplomatic 
Corps  at  the  Palace.  The  doyen  made  an  address  dealing 
in  safe  but  pleasant  generalities,  and  Huerta  replied, 
protesting  that  he  had  but  one  idea,  the  pacification  of 
Mexico.  The  German  minister  is  away  to  investigate 
the  murder  of  one  of  his  nationals. 

I again  visited  the  tuberculosis  hospital  this  morning 
and  was  interested  to  see  patients  risen  from  the  dead, 
so  to  speak,  and  walking  once  more  with  the  living.  The 
climate  here  is  ideal  for  cures.  I took  some  Christmas 
packages  to  the  Red  Cross,  then  went  to  the  Alameda. 
On  three  sides  of  the  Park  the  Christmas  booths  are  set 
out — pusstos,  they  are  called.  The  Indians  bring  their 
beautiful  and  fragile  potteries  from  long  distances,  and 
endless  varieties  of  baskets  and  toys,  and  last,  but  not 
least,  their  relatives,  so  that  family  life  in  all  its  details 
can  be  studied.  They  are  selling,  cooking,  dressing, 
saying  rosaries,  examining  little  black  heads  for  the 
ever-present  visitants — a familiar  Mexican  occupation 
at  all  seasons.  The  smell  of  Christmas  trees  and  greens, 
banked  along  the  street,  mingles  with  odors  of  peanuts 
and  peppers,  enchiladas,  and  all  sorts  of  pungent  foods. 

The  cohetes  are  going  off  as  I write.  They  are  noisy 
crackers,  making  sounds  like  riflc-«fire.  Their  use  is  an 
old  custom  that  is  observed  for  the  nine  days  before 
Christmas;  but  in  these  troublous  days  one  is  led  to 

10S 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


think  rather  of  pistols  than  of  the  advent  of  the  “Son 
of  Peace.” 

A very  nice  letter  came  from  Admiral  Cradock,  say- 
ing that  he  has  just  got  back  to  Vera  Cruz  from  the 
Tampico  fray,  the  sojourn  enlivened  by  some  “good 
tarpon-fishing.”  He  will  not  be  able  to  return  here  for 
Christmas,  as  he  intended,  but  hopes  we  will  soon  run 
down  to  Vera  Cruz  and  be  dined  and  saluted  by  him  on 
the  Suffolk. 

There  are  a thousand  things  to  do  about  Christmas. 
We  trimmed  the  tree  last  night  and  it  is  locked  away 
in  the  big  salon,  presumably  safe  from  infant  eyes. 


IX 


Christmas — The  strangling  of  a country — de  la  Barra — The  “manana 
game” — Spanish  in  five  phrases — Senora  Huerta’s  great  diamond — 
The  peons  desperate  situation  in  a land  torn  by  revolutions. 

La  Noche  Buena,  Christmas,  1913. 

THESE  Christmas  hours  I have  been  dwelling  on 
memories  of  my  precious  brother  on  his  bed  of 
pain  throughout  these  days  last  year,  his  Tod  tmd  Ver- 
klarung.  . . . But  I would  call  no  one  back,  once  through 
“the  door.” 

The  tree  was  a great  success — though  in  the  morning, 
when  Feliz  was  hanging  the  last  festoons  of  green  about 
the  room,  he  crashed  down,  step-ladder  and  all,  on  the 
side  where  the  toys  were  piled.  There  had  to  be  swift 
runnings  down-town  to  repair  the  damage.  I was  so 
annoyed  that  I didn’t  even  ask  if  he  were  hurt,  and  he 
seemed  too  aghast  at  the  occurrence  to  feel  any  pain. 
It  was  very  pleasant  to  have  the  small  remnant  of  the 
faithful  under  one  roof.  The  children  played  with  their 
toys  and  we  grown-ups  exchanged  our  little  offerings 
and  greetings  and  everything  seemed  very  cozy  and  safe 
— just  as  if  we  weren’t  “riding  a revolution.” 

Clarence  Hay  brought  N.  a bottle  of  cognac,  inscribed: 
“Nelson  from  Victoriano,”  and  a like-sized  bottle  of 
grape-juice:  “Nelson  from  W.  J.  B.”  I leave  you  to 
guess  which  we  opened. 

After  the  departure  of  the  families,  a few  of  the  lone 

1 10 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


ones  stayed — Seeger,  Clarence  H.,  Ryan — and  we  talked 
until  a late  hour  of  the  strange  adventures  we  are  all 
living  through  in  this  land  of  endless  possibilities. 

To-day,  after  Mass,  we  drove  to  the  beautiful  little 
Automobile  Club,  where  Seeger  gave  a luncheon  for  us, 
the  Tozzers,  Clarence  Hay,  and  the  Evans.  The  club  is 
built  in  the  new  part  of  the  Park,  on  the  edge  of  one  of 
the  little  artificial  lakes  made  when  Limantour  laid  out 
the  Park  as  it  now  is.  We  sat  on  the  terrace  toward  the 
high  hill  of  the  castle,  which  breaks  the  round  horizon 
of  the  magic  hills.  The  air  was  soft,  yet  bright,  the 
moss-hung  old  ahuahuetes,  symbols  of  grief  and  mourn- 
ing, had  joyous,  burnished,  filmy  outlines,  and  the 
volcanoes  were  flinging  white  clouds  about  their  lovely 
heads.  It  was  one  of  God’s  own  days — as  days  here 
usually  are. 

December  26th. 

I am  sending  you  a few  Heralds,  with  their  Christmas ( ?) 
head-lines:  “Vera  Cruz  Rebels  Suffer  Defeat  in  Fierce 
Fight”;  “Rebels  Ordered  to  Execute  All  Prisoners”; 
“Town  of  Tapono  Burnt  to  Ground  by  Federals”; 
“Only  Twelve  Killed  when  Military  Train  Dynamited”; 
“Fierce  Fighting  at  Concepcion  del  Oro.”  They 
make  one  feel  that  “watchful  waiting”  in  Washing- 
ton bids  fair  to  be  woefid  waiting  south  of  the  Rio 
Grande. 

Elim  was  wTom  out  by  the  Christmas  festivities  and 
was  dreadfully  naughty.  The  season  of  pinatas  is  on, 
and  he  has  a great  number  of  invitations — unfortunately. 
At  the  pinatas  a large,  grotesque  head  and  figure,  dressed 
in  tissue-paper  and  tinsel,  depending  from  the  ceil- 
ing, is  the  center  of  attention.  The  dress  conceals  a 
huge,  but  fragile,  earthem  jar  ( olla ) filled  with  nuts, 
fruits,  candies,  and  small  toys.  Each  child  is  blind- 
folded and  allowed  to  have  a whack  at  it  with  a big  stick. 

in 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


When  it  is  finally  broken  the  contents  spill  everywhere 
and  are  scrambled  for.  It  seems  a messy  sort  of  game, 
but  it  is  time-hallowed  here. 

I sent  Mr.  Lind  a telegram  yesterday:  “Affectionate 
greetings;  best  wishes.”  He  might  as  well,  or  better, 
be  in  Minneapolis.  Nobody  ever  speaks  of  him  and  Vera 
Cruz  is  like  the  grave  as  far  as  the  government  here  is 
concerned.  Mexico  is  going  to  her  downfall,  and  it 
seems  as  if  she  must  be  nearly  there.  It  is  very  sad  to 
us,  who  are  on  the  ground.  I never  witnessed,  before, 
the  strangling  of  a country,  and  it  is  a horrible  sight. 
The  new  Chilian  charge  came  in  a day  or  two  ago:  he 
has  been  in  Central  America  for  twenty  years,  and  says 
this  is  his  thirty-second  revolution. 

I caught  sight  of  Mr.  Creel-Terrazas  in  his  carriage, 
yesterday.  His  face  was  sunk  and  ashen,  and  he  was 
huddled  up  in  one  corner  of  the  coupe,  changed  indeed 
from  the  hale,  rosy,  white-haired  man  of  a few  weeks 
ago.  He  and  his  family  have  lost  everything  at  the 
hands  of  the  rebels.  The  family  owned  nearly  the  whole 
of  Chihuahua,  and  though  stories — probably  true — are 
told  of  how,  generations  ago,  they  came  into  possession 
of  the  vast  property,  driving  the  Indians  from  their 
holdings  into  the  desert,  it  does  not  change  the  present 
fact  that  they  are  ruined,  and  the  country  with  them; 
the  “judgment”  upon  them,  if  judgment  it  be,  involving 
countless  others. 

The  whole  question  up  there  seems  to  reduce  itself 
very  simply  to  a matter  of  grabbing  from  those  in  pos- 
session by  those  desirous  of  possession.  We  are  all  wait- 
ing for  the  inevitable  falling  out  of  Carranza  and  Villa. 
The  hero  in  any  Mexican  drama  is  never  more  than  a 
few  months  removed  from  being  the  villain.  The  actors 
alone  change;  never  the  horrid  plot  of  blood,  treachery, 
and  devastation. 


1 12 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 

You  saw  that  dc  la  Barra  actually  reached  Tokio. 
I was  sure  he  would,  having  a way  of  finishing  what 
he  begins.  Five  sets  of  ambassadors  have  been  ap- 
pointed to  set  out  for  Japan  to  return  the  nation’s 
thanks  for  the  special  embassy  sent  to  the  splendid 
1910  Centcnario — that  apogee  of  Mexico’s  national  and 
international  life.  The  last  two  were  the  murdered 
Gustavo  Madero,  who  couldn’t  tear  himself  away  be- 
cause of  the  golden  harvests  to  be  reaped  at  home;  and 
Felix  Diaz,  because  of  his  political  aspirations. 

You  remember  de  la  Barra,  from  Paris,  an  agreeable, 
adroit  man  of  the  world,  who  proved  himself,  during 
the  five  months  that  he  was  President  ad  interim , 
a very  good  tight-rope  walker  on  a decidedly  slack 
rope.  The  country  was  still  enjoying  the  Diaz  prestige, 
and  he  found  himself  pretty  generally  acceptable  to  both 
the  old  and  the  new  regime.  He  has  always  been  very 
catholic.  He  became,  later,  rather  a source  of  anxiety 
to  Madero,  who  feared  his  popularity,  though  his  suc- 
cess at  the  time  was  largely  a matter  of  allowing  all 
really  important  questions  to  stand  over  for  his  successor. 
Looking  back  on  it  all  now,  I see  him  in  a very  favorable 
light:  a careful,  hard-working,  skilful  politician,  with  a 
taste  for  peace  and  order  which  is  not  always  inherent 
in  the  Mexican  breast,  and  a safe  man  to  fall  back  on  to 
conduct  the  affairs  of  his  country  with  dignity.  When 
in  doubt,  “take”  de  la  Barra. 

The  manana  (to-morrow)  game  is  the  best  played 
down  here;  it  is  never  actually  subversive;  and,  as  ex- 
emplified by  Huerta’s  attitude  vis-a-vis  the  United  States, 
it  is  very  effective  against  a nation  that  wants  things 
done,  and  done  at  once.  I find  that  the  Mexicans  are 
constantly  studying  us,  which  is  more  than  we  do  in 
regard  to  them.  They  look  upon  us  as  something  im- 
mensely powerful,  that  is  able  and,  perhaps,  if  displeased, 

113 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


willing,  to  crush  them.  They  are  infinitely  more  subtle 
than  we,  and  their  efforts  tend  more  to  keeping  out  of 
our  clutches  than  to  imitating  us.  Our  institutions,  all 
our  ways  of  procedure,  are  endlessly  wearisome  to  them, 
and  correspond  to  nothing  they  consider  profitable  and 
agreeable.  Suum  cuique. 

I have  discovered  that  there  are  five  Spanish  phrases 
quite  sufficient  for  all  uses,  in  the  length  and  breadth  of 
this  fair  land : “ Manana ” (“to-morrow”).  “Quien  sabe?" 
(“who  knows?”).  “ No  hay”  (“there  isn’t  any  ”).  “No 
le  hace ” (“it  doesn’t  matter”).  “Ya  se  fue”  (“he  has 
gone”).  This  last  I add  as,  whenever  any  one  tries  to 
get  hold  of  anybody,  “Ya  se  fue ” is  the  answer.  I have 
given  this  small  but  complete  phrase-book  to  many,  who 
find  it  meets  almost  any  situation  or  exigency. 

No  news  from  Mr.  Lind  for  some  time.  Doubtless 
Christmas,  as  spent  on  the  Mexican  coast,  alternating 
damp  heat  and  north  winds,  is  a poor  affair  compared 
with  the  tannenbaums  and  skating  and  general  cheer  of 
both  his  Fatherlands.  Some  Western  editor  suggests  that, 
on  his  return,  he  will  be  in  a position  to  publish  a “com- 
prehensive blank  book”  on  the  Mexican  situation.  I 
have  broken  many  a lance  for  him;  but  when  one  of 
the  foreign  ministers  said  to  me  yesterday ,“  your  Scan- 
danavian  friend  is  anti-Latin,  anti-British  and  anti- 
Catholic,”  I could  but  retire  from  the  field  of 
battle. 

Elim  is  always  followed  by  his  two  dogs — Micko,  the 
melancholy  Irish  terrier,  and  Juanita.  The  white  bull 
pup  becomes  more  destructive  and  demonstrative  every 
day.  Yesterday  when  she  seemed  not  quite  her  awful 
self  one  of  the  servants  suggested  hanging  a string  of 
lemons  around  her  neck.  I remember  having  seen  dis- 
consolate dogs  wearing  necklaces  of  lemons,  but  thought 
children  had  placed  them  there.  It  appears,  however, 

1 14 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


that  such  a necklace  is  in  high  favor  among  the  Indians 
as  a cure  for  distemper. 

I hear  that  the  government  intends  to  lease  the  Te- 
huantepec Railroad  to  Pearson’s  Oil  Company  for 
twenty-five  years,  for  25,000,000  pesos.  Huerta  is  de- 
picted in  one  of  the  papers  as  knocking  at  the  Euro- 
pean pawnshop  with  the  Isthmus  under  his  arm. 


December  29th. 

I inclose  a delightful  letter  from  Mrs.  J.  W.  Foster, 
who  always  keeps  so  apace  with  events.  Of  course  the 
Fosters  read  the  Mexican  news  with  interest  and  under- 
standing, as  they  were  here  during  the  years  Diaz  was 
trying  to  establish  himself  in  spite  of  the  Mexican  people, 
and  not  in  spite  of  ns  as  well,  fortunately  for  Diaz  and 
them.  . . . 

I send  a cartoon  from  Novcdadcs,  representing  Huerta 
paralyzed.  One  nurse  asks  the  other  how  he  is,  and  she 
answers:  “No  change.  He  can’t  move  yet.” 

Well,  some  one  has  got  to  “move”  if  this  country 
and  all  national  and  foreign  interests  are  to  be  saved. 
I cannot  see  that  a new  revolutionary  party  in  the 
north,  whose  sole  virtue,  up  to  now,  is  that  it  is  “agin” 
the  government,  can  do  it.  Besides  which  it  represents 
only  another  pack  of  hungry  wolves  to  be  let  loose  upon 
the  country.  I hear  that  Carranza  has  a brother,  Jesus, 
who  possesses  the  family  vice  of  greed  to  a great  degree, 
and  is  about  to  “operate”  on  the  Isthmus.  There  are 
predictions  that  it  wall  look  as  though  the  locusts  had 
been  over  it,  if  he  really  gets  a “chance.” 

Four  clerks  are  sleeping  in  the  house,  and  the  work  is 
going  on  apace.  Cambiaggo,  the  new  Italian  minister, 
was  received  yesterday  with  all  honors  emphasized.  Oh, 
that  Fata  Morgana  of  recognition!  The  Belgian  minister 
has  got  his  leave  and  has  just  been  here  to  say  good- 

115 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 

by.  He  has  already  the  European  eye  so  familiar  to 
those  left  behind.  He  has  had  a very  cordial  telegram 
from  a big  banker  in  New  York,  and  wondered  if  the 
banker  expected  to  put  him  up.  I said,  “If  you  are 


PARALYZED 


“how  is  he?” 

“ NO  CHANGE.  HE  CAN’T  MOVE  YET.” 


met  by  an  automobile  and  servants  in  New  York,  you 
can  be  pretty  sure  you  are  to  stay  with  him;  otherwise 
you’d  better  rough  it  at  the  Ritz.” 

Various  ideas  are  advanced  by  diplomats  here  as  to 
the  possibility  of  some  arrangement  being  made  through 
a third  party,  some  one  of  the  great  Powers;  . . . some 

116 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


way  by  which  the  elections  could  really  be  held,  and 
Huerta,  if  really  elected,  allowed  to  remain.  N.  can’t 
do  it,  nor  Mr.  Lind,  nor  any  American.  The  national 
pride  on  both  sides  is  too  compromised  to  admit  of  any- 
thing but  a third  power  stepping  in  and  “doing  the 
trick.”  . 

There  is  talk  of  a big  English  loan,  guaranteed  by  the 
customs,  at  the  same  time  allowing  a certain  amount 
of  these  to  be  freed — a couple  of  millions  of  pesos  a month 
for  the  expenses  of  the  government.  There  is  a general 
twitching  of  international  fingers,  a longing  to  remedy 
our  bungling.  May,  with  his  face  toward  Europe,  sees 
everything  rose-colored.  He  predicts  that  we  shall  be 
here  until  the  next  elections,  the  first  Sunday  in  July. 
There  is  a great  deal  of  speculation  as  to  Huerta’s  per- 
sonal fortune,  but  no  one  knows  whether  he  is  rich  or 
poor.  His  new  house  in  San  Cosme  is,  I hear,  a cheap 
affair.  Mme.  Huerta  wore,  when  she  received,  one  large, 
very  magnificent  diamond  depending  from  her  throat. 
But  why  shouldn’t  she  have  it? 

Evening. 

No  political  excitements  these  last  days;  only  a mo- 
notonous and  horrid  record  of  grab  by  the  temporarily 
strong  from  the  always  weak.  A “good  deed”  in 
Chihuahua  is  one  that  transfers  any  valuable  property 
to  a rebel.  Those  palatial  residences,  the  homes  of  pros- 
perity and  wealth  for  generations,  have  all  changed 
hands  during  the  last  three  weeks,  which,  however,  does 
not  mean  that  the  much-talked-of  peon  has  benefited 
in  the  slightest  degree.  It  simply  means  that  a few  men, 
some  of  whom  can  neither  read  nor  wTrite,  now  hold 
what  used  to  be  in  the  possession  of  a few  men  who  could 
read  and  -write.  The  land  in  Mexico  has  always  been  in 
the  hands  of  a few  thousand  individuals,  and  the  peon  is 
always  exploited,  no  matter  what  the  battle-cry.  A kind 
9 ii  7 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


paternalism  on  the  part  of  some  of  the  upper  class  ha- 
cendados,  who  leave  him  more  or  less  to  the  mercies  of 
the  Spanish  administrador,  has  been  his  best  fate. 

His  unfitness  for  government  has  never  been  ques- 
tioned. When  he  is  weak,  he  promises  all  things;  when 
he  is  strong,  he  is  destructive.  Though  there  have 
been  sentimental  remarks  about  the  peon’s  intelligence, 
and  his  wrongs,  which  are  appalling,  no  government  ex- 
cept ours  ever  dreamed  of  putting  the  destinies  of  the 
state  into  his  hands — into  the  hands  of  these  eighty-six 
per  cent,  of  human  beings  who  can  neither  read  nor 
write. 

Curiously  enough,  it  is  the  custom  to  assert  that  the 
Church  kept  the  Indians  in  this  state  of  ignorance ; but 
education,  after  the  Laws  of  Reform  in  1857,  was  taken 
out  of  the  hands  of  the  priests  and  given  into  those  of 
the  lay  authorities.  That  was  nearly  sixty  years  ago — 
three  Indian  generations.  Who  runs  may  read,  literally, 
in  this  case. 

Eduardo  I.  told  me  an  amusing  and  enlightening 
story  yesterday.  An  Indian  went  to  a priest  to  ask  to 
be  married.  The  priest,  finding  his  ideas  of  the  Divinity 
were  of  the  haziest  in  spite  of  much  instruction,  said, 
“ Hijo ” (son),  “I  cannot  do  it  until  you  have  learned 
el  rezo”  (a  very  elemental  catechism),  and  proceeded  to 
give  him  further  instruction.  The  Indian  returned  the 
next  day  and  said  that  it  was  all  very  difficult  and  that 
he  still  did  not  understand  about  God  being  everywhere. 
“Is  He  in  the  church?”  “Yes.”  “Is  He  in  the  milpa” 
(cornfield)?  “Yes.”  “Is  He  in  my  hut?”  “Yes.” 
“Is  He  in  the  corral  de  la  casa  de  mi  comadreV ’ (yard 
of  my  godmother’s  house?”)  “Of  course;  He  is  always 
there,”  said  the  priest.  The  Indian’s  expression  became 
triumphant.  “ Padrecito,”  he  said,  “I  have  caught  you. 
My  comadre's  house  has  no  yard!” 

1 18 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


Evening. 

Mr.  Lind  is  hurrying  aboard  the  U.  S.  S.  Chester  to 
meet  the  President  at  Pass  Christian.  Strong  Carran- 
zista  though  Mr.  Lind  is  proving  himself,  I don’t  think 
the  President  will  be  led  into  the  risky  policy  of  recog- 
nizing this  undeveloped  but  certainly  not  very  promis- 
ing quantity.  We  can  put  in  any  sort  of  government  in 
Mexico — but  can  we  keep  one  in?  We  encouraged  the 
powers  of  dissolution  around  Diaz,  recognizing  and  aid- 
ing Madero.  The  world  knows  the  result.  History  al- 
ways repeats  itself  here,  and  the  writing  on  the  wall  is 
always  in  blood.  After  Mr.  Lind’s  months  of  inaction 
it  must  seem  good  to  be  plowing  the  high  seas  en  route 
to  the  weighty  conference.  He  said  he  would  have  re- 
turned to  the  States  some  time  ago  but  for  the  “very 
satisfactory”  progress  of  the  rebels.  He  was  especially 
“bucked  up”  when  Villa  announced  his  intention  of  eat- 
ing his  New-Year’s  dinner  at  the  Jockey  Club. 


December  ji,  1914. 

Many  people  are  still  coming  and  going  in  the  house, 
but  I am  alone,  thinking  of  New-Year’s  eves  of  the  past. 
Now  I must  let  this  year,  with  its  griefs,  harassments, 
glories,  and  interests  slip  into  the  next  with  this  last 
word  for  you.  May  we  all  be  folded  in  the  Eternal 
Love.  I think  of  my  precious  brother  and  his  rare  gifts. 
I sometimes  had  the  feeling  of  receiving  through  his 
beautiful  mind  something  direct  from  the  universal  res- 
ervoir of  thought. 


X 


New-Year’s  receptions — Churubusco — Memories  of  Carlota — Rape  of  the 
Morelos  women — Mexico’s  excuse  for  the  murder  of  an  American  cit- 
izen— A visit  to  the  floating  gardens  of  Xochimilco. 

January  i,  1914. 

MY  first  word  goes  to  you.  You  know  my  heart,  and 
all  my  love  and  hopes. 

A letter  came  from  Mr.  Lind,  who  is  to-day  at  Pass 
Christian.  It  was  sent  before  he  started.  He  wants 
N.  to  come  down  to  confer  when  he  returns. 


Later. 

The  President  received  the  ministers  at  the  Palace 
this  morning  and  in  the  afternoon  Senora  Huerta  re- 
ceives at  Chapultepec.  I have  people  for  dinner  also. 
The  President’s  answer  to  the  Spanish  minister’s  speech 
at  the  Palace  was  long  and  disconnected,  with,  however, 
the  insistent  refrain  that  he  had  but  one  idea — the 
pacification  of  Mexico,  which  he  would  and  could  ac- 
complish if  given  time.  The  German  minister  wasn’t 
there.  He  was  off  investigating  the  murder  of  a German 
subject  in  the  interior. 

Huerta  appeared  at  the  New-Year’s  eve  ball  at  the 
Country  Club — a most  unusual  stage-setting  for  him. 
As  soon  as  he  saw  N.  he  joined  him  and  gave  him  one 
of  the  abrazos  they  so  enjoy  hearing  about  in  the 
States.  His  undaunted  amiability  may  stand  him  and 
us  and  the  Colony  in  good  stead  on  some  day  of  reckon- 
ing. He  himself  will  always  find  asylum  here.  It  is 

120 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


a pity  that  the  Embassy  did  not  hide  Madero  behind  its 
secure  door. 

Later. 

I went  to  Senora  Huerta’s  reception  with  the  Cardens. 
N.,  having  paid  his  tithe  in  the  morning,  had  fled  to  the 
country.  There  were  few  present.  She  received  on  the 
lower  floor  of  the  Palace  in  the  rooms  which  were  once 
the  intimate  apartments  of  Maximilian  and  Carlota. 
They  were  handsome  rooms  so  far  as  proportions  go, 
but  were  done  over  in  doubtful  taste  in  Diaz’s  time. 
The  dining-room,  where  tea  was  served,  looked  as  if 
paneled  in  plaster  and  painted  a hideous  brownish 
yellow;  but  I am  told  it  is  really  finished  in  carved 
Alsatian  oak.  On  the  table  was  one  large  silver  6pergne 
bearing  Maximilian’s  arms;  how  it  has  managed  to  re- 
main where  it  is  all  these  years  I know  not. 

The  room  where  Senora  Huerta  stood,  which  used  to 
be  Carlota’s  boudoir,  is  now  hung  with  an  ugly,  brown- 
ish-pink brocade;  a lovely  Gobelin  border  remains  to 
frame  the  panels  of  the  brocade,  and  two  exquisite 
lunettes  of  the  same  Gobelin  are  over  the  windows. 
The  rooms  are  only  inconveniently  reached  one  through 
the  other.  Visitors  pass  through  the  Salon  Rojo,  with  its 
big  table  and  chairs,  where  the  Cabinet  sits  when  meet- 
ings are  held  at  Chapultepec,  then  through  the  Recamara 
Azul,  hung  with  blue  brocade,  in  which  is  an  elaborate 
Buhl  bed  and  dressing-table.  Other  traces  of  the  ruler 
with  the  blond  hair  and  blue  eyes  are  not  in  evidence. 

The  President  made  a speech  at  tea.  I was  standing, 
two  removed,  on  his  side  of  the  table,  next  to  Mme. 
Lefaivre  and  Sir  Lionel.  Huerta  began  by  wishing  the 
Diplomatic  Corps  a happy  new  year.  He  went  on  to 
say,  with  his  usual  genial  ignoring  of  the  United  States, 
that  Mexico  wras  not  the  equal  of  great  Powers  like  Eng- 
land, Spain,  France,  or  Germany ; that  she  had  not  their 

121 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


many  blessings  of  culture  and  enlightenment;  that  she 
was  an  adolescent,  a minor;  but  that,  like  any  nation, 
she  possessed  a right  to  her  own  development  and 
evolution  along  her  own  line,  and  he  begged  the  mercy 
and  patience  of  the  Powers.  He  got  balled  up  in  some 
astronomical  metaphors.  One  heard  vague  references  to 
Jupiter  and  Mars;  but  he  soon  disentangled  himself 
with  his  usual  sang-froid.  I found  his  speech,  under  the 
circumstances,  tragic  and  touching.  He  is  backed  up  de- 
terminedly against  the  whole  world  of  Powers  and  Domi- 
nations, but  at  times  he  must  know  that  he  is  slipping, 
slipping.  Mexico  can’t  exist  without  the  favor  of  the 
United  States,  or  at  least  without  its  indifference. 

Eight  years  ago,  in  one  of  those  interregna  known  to 
all  Mexican  statesmen,  Huerta  was  overseer  of  peons 
building  houses  in  the  new  quarter  of  Mexico  City. 
But  mostly  his  avocations  have  required  courage  and 
knowledge.  He  was  for  years  head  of  the  Geodetic  Sur- 
vey, and  was  at  one  time  inspector  of  the  “National  Rail- 
ways.” He  was  first  discovered  in  his  native  town  by  a 
passing  general  who  needed  some  one  for  secretarial 
work.  Having  taken  the  fullest  advantage  of  the  very 
poor  schooling  of  his  native  town,  he  was  ready  when 
opportunity  came.  He  was  taken  to  Mexico  City,  where 
he  was  brought  to  the  attention  of  Diaz,  through  whose 
influence  he  entered  the  Military  Academy.  After  this 
his  qualities  were  speedily  acknowledged  and  he  became 
an  important  figure  in  the  military  history  of  Mexico. 

He  once  told  N.  that  when,  during  de  la  Barra’s  in- 
cumbency in  1911,  he  was  sent  in  to  Morelos  to  surpress 
the  Zapatistas,  the  Cientifico  party  offered  him  many  in- 
ducements to  aid  in  their  reinstatement  as  rulers  of  Mex- 
ico. He  added  that  he  had  preferred  to  remain  faithful  to 
his  constitutional  oath.  The  same  thing  occurred  dur- 
ing the  brilliant  campaign  he  carried  out  in  the  north  for 

122 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


Madero  against  Orozco.  He  said,  * * I could  have  done  it 
easily  then,  because  I had  control  of  the  army  and  the 
arms,  but  I remained  faithful  to  Madero,  as  representing 
constitutional  government.”  Later  on,  he  said,  he  be- 
came convinced  that  Madero  was  not  capable  of  the  busi- 
ness of  government  and  that  disaster  was  unavoidable. 

How  well  I remember  going  once  to  Chapultepec 
to  see  Senora  Madero.  She  was  in  bed  in  the  room 
next  the  Salon  de  Embajadores,  consumed  with  fever 
and  anxieties,  twisting  a rosary  in  her  hot  hands.  She 
told  me,  with  shining  eyes,  of  the  news  received  that 
very  afternoon  of  the  success  of  Huerta’s  northern 
campaign  against  Orozco,  and  added  that  he  was  their 
strongest  general  and  muy  leal  (very  loyal).  How 
quickly  any  situation  here  in  Latin  America  becomes  part 
of  an  irrevocable  past! 

N.  sent  a telegram  to  Mr.  Lind  in  answer  to  his  letter, 
begging  him  to  give  the  President  his  most  respectful 
wishes  for  a happy  new  } ear.  This  afternoon  we  received 
the  new  Italian  minister. 

The  cook  departed  an  hour  ago,  leaving  word  that 
her  sister  is  dying  and  that  she  will  be  back  in  eight 
days.  They  are  apt  to  take  time  for  grief  in  this  part 
of  the  world,  and  food  for  an  Embassy  is  a mere  detail. 
The  galopina  (kitchen-maid),  seen  for  the  first  time — 
a pale,  high-cheeked  Indian  girl,  with  her  hair  hang- 
ing down  her  back — answered  my  every  question  by 
a most,  discouraging,  ‘‘  Quien  sabe?”  The  women  ser- 
vants seem  to  be  forever  washing  their  hair,  and 
though  it  would  doubtless  be  unreasonable  and  useless 
to  forbid  it,  the  sight  has  an  irritating  effect.  Every- 
body who  has  really  lived  in  Mexico  has  at  some  time 
or  other  had  food  brought  in  by  females  with  long, 
damp,  black  hair  floating  down  their  backs. 

We  motored  out  to  the  Country  Club,  where  Elim  and 

123 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


I followed  some  golfers  over  the  beautiful  links.  The 
short  grass  was  dry  and  springy,  the  air  clear  and  cool, 
without  a breath  of  wind.  As  we  motored  home  we 
found  ourselves  enveloped  in  an  indescribable  glory — a 
strange  light  thrown  over  everything  by  a blue  and 
copper  sunset.  The  luster-tiled  roof  of  the  little  Chapel 
of  Churubusco  was  like  a diamond  held  in  the  sun — the 
rest  of  the  church  gray  and  flat.  All  this  is  historic 
ground  for  us  as  well  as  for  the  Mexicans.  Over  the 
golf-links  and  in  the  fields  between  the  Country  Club 
and  Churubusco,  our  men,  on  their  way  up  from 
Vera  Cruz  in  1847,  fought  a desperate  fight  before 
pressing  into  Mexico  City.  It  is  said  we  lost  more  than 
a thousand  men  here,  and  there  are  grass-grown  mounds 
beneath  which  pale  and  bronze  heroes  lie  together  in 
death.  In  the  old  Aztec  days  Churubusco  had  a temple 
dedicated  to  the  war-god  Huitzilopochtli,  and  Churu- 
busco is  the  word  the  Spaniards  produced  from  this 
rather  discouraging  collection  of  letters. 

Burnside  has  just  come  to  say  that  a lot  of  “scrap- 
ping,” as  he  calls  it,  is  beginning  again  in  the  north. 
I don’t  know  why  we  say  “beginning  again” — it  never 
stops.  He  told  me  about  the  three  hundred  Morelos 
peasant  women  taken  from  their  families  and  sent  to 
Quintana  Roo,  the  most  unhealthful  of  the  Mexican 
states,  lying  south  of  Yucatan,  where  it  is  customary 
to  send  men  only.  The  women  had  been  convoyed 
there  with  some  idea  of  forming  a colony  with  the  un- 
fortunate men  deported  to  that  region  for  army  service. 
On  their  arrival  there  was  a mutiny  and  a scramble  for 
the  women  by  the  soldiers.  Such  disorder  prevailed 
that  the  officials  shipped  the  women  back  to  Vera  Cruz 
and  dumped  them  on  the  beach.  Almost  every  woman 
had  a baby,  but  there  was  no  food,  no  clothing,  no  one 
responsible  for  them  in  any  way.  They  were  merely 

124 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


thrown  there,  separated  from  their  families  by  hundreds 
of  miles.  It  was  one  of  those  tragedies  that  countless 
Indian  generations  have  enacted. 

January  4th. 

Last  night  N.  went  to  a big  dinner  at  the  Jockey  Club. 
It  was  given  by  Corona,  the  chic  governor  of  the  Federal 
District,  for  the  President,  who  made  speeches  at  inter- 
vals. Several  times  Huerta  seemed  to  be  on  the  verge 
of  mentioning  the  United  States,  but  N.  said  he  kept 
a restraining  eye  fastened  on  him.  After  dinner  N.  was 
called  to  the  telephone.  When  he  came  back  there  was 
a subtle  something  in  the  air  which  made  him  feel  that 
in  his  absence  the  President  had  drifted  near  the  Wash- 
ington rocks,  for  Huerta  took  pains  to  go  over  and  em- 
brace him.  Later  the  President  quoted  the  saying  that 
“all  thieves  are  not  gachu  pines but  that  “all  gachupines 
are  thieves,”  whereupon,  catching  the  Spanish  minister’s 
eye,  he  felt  obliged  to  go  over  and  embrace  him,  too! 
However,  drifting  a bit  nearer  to  Scylla  and  Charybdis 
matters  little  to  him. 

He  was  not  responsible  for  the  much-talked-of  New- 
Year’s  greeting  to  President  Wilson.  It  was  sent  out 
from  the  Foreign  Office  with  the  other  usual  annual 
messages  to  the  heads  of  Powers,  and  in  the  Foreign 
Office  they  explained  that  they  did  not  like  to  pass  over 
the  United  States. 

The  admonition  given  out  by  the  State  Department 
yesterday,  the  third  to  Americans,  warning  them  not 
to  return  to  Mexico,  was  printed  in  small  type  in  a cor- 
ner of  the  Mexican  Herald.  Formerly  it  would  have 
occupied  a whole  page,  but  the  people  are  getting  bias 6 
about  warnings.  Each  man  looks  to  himself  for  protec- 
tion— on  the  even  chance.  I don’t  know  whether  this 
admonition  was  in  any  way  an  outcome  of  Mr.  Lind’s 
conference;  it  might  easily  be,  as  one  of  his  strong  be- 

125 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


liefs  is  that  foreigners  would  better  get  out.  This  is 
also  Carranza’s  idea. 

January  5th. 

Von  Hintze  has  returned.  The  excuse  given  for  the 
murder  of  a German  subject  who  was  quietly  asleep  in 
the  railroad  station  at  Leon  was  that  the  guards,  who 
also  robbed  him,  thought  he  was  an  American!  Well, 
there  are  some  things  one  can’t  talk  about,  but  I 
seemed  to  be  conscious,  hotly,  of  each  individual  hair 
on  my  head. 

No  news  from  the  Chester  conference,  but,  of  course, 
we  are  all  on  the  qui  vive  for  possible  results.  Things  get 
more  chaotic  all  the  time,  and  whatever  is  to  be  done 
should  be  done  quickly.  There  is  some  regard  for  life 
and  property  under  the  near  gaze  of  the  Dictator  in  the 
provinces  he  controls,  but  in  the  north  reigns  complete 
lawlessness.  Everywhere  brother  is  killing  brother,  and 
as  for  the  sisters,  they  are  often  lassoed  and  captured  as 
if  they  were  stampeding  cattle.  Educated  people,  who 
have  been  prosperous  all  their  lives,  are  now  without 
food  or  shelter,  knowing  that  strangers  eat  at  their 
tables,  sleep  in  their  beds,  and  scatter  their  treasures. 
If  only  poor  old  Huerta  could  have  begun  in  some  other 
way  than  by  riding  into  the  capital  in  a path  of  blood 
spilled  by  himself  and  others,  he  would  probably  have 
been  able,  with  recognition,  to  do  as  well  as  any  one,  and 
better  than  most.  As  it  is,  he  is  like  a woman  who  has 
begun  wrong.  The  neighbors  won’t  let  her  start  again, 
no  matter  how  virtuously  she  lives. 

The  “bull-fight  charity,”  organized  to  raise  funds  for 
the  Red  Cross,  is  considered  the  hit  of  the  season.  It 
had  been  advertised  as  a “humane”  fight,  as  the  bull’s 
horns  were  capped.  However,  the  toreador  was  killed — 
amid  immense  excitement,  pleasurable  rather  than  other- 
wise. As  I was  coming  home,  about  five  this  afternoon, 

126 


THE  FLOATING  GARDENS  OF  XOCH1MILCO 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


from  a peaceful  day  at  Xochimilco,  I saw  in  every  direc- 
tion immense  clouds  of  dust.  For  a moment  I thought 
that  a storm  was  rising,  but  it  was  only  the  dust  raised 
by  the  vehicles  bringing  spectators  back  from  the  bull- 
ring,  half  a kilometer  beyond  the  Embassy.  Having 
tried,  on  two  awful  and  useless  occasions,  to  “get  the 
spirit  of  the  game,”  I have  put  the  whole  question  of 
bull-fights  out  of  my  consciousness. 

Several  people  have  just  been  here  on  their  way  home. 
Mr.  Lefaivre  thinks  this  unfortunate  government  might 
possibly  get  money  from  abroad  if  it  could  be  placed  in 
the  hands  of  a commission  for  spending  and  accounting, 
and  would  be  willing  to  urge  it  on  his  government  under 
such  conditions.  The  idea  of  such  a commission,  for 
several  reasons,  has  not  been  popular  here.  It  would,  of 
course,  be  mixte  (foreigners  and  Mexicans).  It  would  re- 
flect on  their  cultura  (a  Spanish  word  for  personal  dig- 
nity and  urbanity),  and  on  their  bizarna,  meaning  gal- 
lantry, mettle,  valor,  generosity.  Last,  but  not  least, 
what  would  be  the  use  of  an  arrangement  where  there 
would  be  no  “pickings”  for  anybody? 

Well,  the  sun  shines  faithfully  on  what  might  be  an 
earthly  paradise,  and  Xochimilco  was  beautiful  beyond 
words.  We  motored  out,  skirting  a bit  of  the  picturesque 
Viga  Canal  (fifty  years  ago  the  fashionable  drive  of 
Mexico  City),  to  the  old  water-gates,  where  we  got  into 
a great  flatboat  and  were  poled  by  a big-hatted,  white- 
trousered  Indian  along  the  watery  aisles  in  between  the 
beautiful  floating  islands — Chinampas,  the  Indians  call 
them — so  near  that  one  could  almost  reach  the  flowers 
and  vegetables  planted  on  them.  Masses  of  lilies, 
stocks,  and  pansies  are  now  in  bloom  and  are  reflected 
everywhere  in  the  smooth  water.  Silent  Indians,  in 
narrow  canoes  often  simply  hollowed  out  of  trunks  of 
trees,  passed  and  repassed  us.  Sometimes  it  was  a couple 

127 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


of  women  in  bright  garments,  poling  quietly  along,  with 
heaps  of  flowers  and  vegetables  between  them.  Some- 
times there  was  a family,  with  a bright-eyed  baby  lying 
against  the  carrots  and  cauliflowers,  the  eternal  trio — 
when  it  isn’t  the  national  sextette  or  octette  so  familiar 
here.  The  picturesque  life  of  a changeless  people  little, 
if  at  all,  modified  since  the  coming  of  Cortes, 'unfolded 
itself  to  our  gaze.  They  offered  us  bouquets  as  they 
passed,  and  bunches  of  carrots  and  radishes  and  aro- 
matic herbs,  until  our  boat  was  a mass  of  flowers  and 
scent,  and  a dreamy,  hypnotic  quiescence  took  the  place 
of  our  strenuousness.  Some  one  said,  in  a far-away 
voice,  11  La  vida  es  sueno ” (“Life  is  a dream”).  But, 
fortunately  or  unfortunately,  a practical-minded  pic- 
nicker was  able  to  shake  off  his  share  of  the  strange 
magic  that  was  upon  us,  saying,  with  an  attempt  at 
briskness,  “This  isn’t  for  us!” 

Beautiful  willow-  and  flower-bordered  vistas  had  a 
way  of  unexpectedly  leading  to  a sight  of  the  volcanoes, 
sometimes  Popocatapetl,  sometimes  Iztaczihuatl,  when 
one  was  sure  they  must  be  somewhere  else.  The  brilliant 
atmosphere  of  the  Mexican  plateau  lay  over  the  entire 
picture,  seeming  to  hold  the  colors  of  the  spectrum,  and 
yet  to  remain  white.  There,  indeed,  “life  is  a dream.” 

January  6th. 

(In  Memoriam.) 

A year  ago  to-day  we  laid  away  our  precious  Elliott. 
I feel  anew  the  sword  of  grief  that  pierced  me  in  that 
gray,  foggy  dawn  at  Zurich,  when  I realized  that  I must 
get  up  and  do  something  that  was  undoable.  Countless 
millions  know  the  complete  revolt  of  humanity  against 
the  laying  of  one’s  own  in  the  earth.  The  beautiful  Mass 
at  the  Liebfrauen  Kirche  was  strength  to  my  soul.  Pater 
Braun’s  handsome,  earnest  face,  as  he  spoke  Elliott’s 

128 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


precious  name  in  prayer  and  supplication,  the  light  play- 
ing around  the  pulpit,  and  the  beatitudes  in  mosaic 
against  gold — all  are  graven  on  my  heart.  I could  only 
read  through  tears  the  words  Bcati  qui  esuriunt — El- 
liott’s life  history.  And  that  peaceful  hour  with  him 
afterward,  in  the  flower-filled  room,  when  we  felt  that 
it  was  only  his  afternoon  rest  we  were  watching  over! 
When  they  came  to  cover  his  face  forever  I was  so 
uplifted  that  I could  turn  those  screws  myself,  instead 
of  leaving  it  to  hirelings  to  shut  the  light  away  from 
those  noble  features. 

Oh,  that  loving  heart,  that  crystal  brain,  with  its 
power  of  original  thought,  that  gift  of  industry!  How 
far  Elliott  might  have  gone  on  the  road  of  science! 
Others  will  discover  and  progress,  but  he,  so  fitted  to 
lift  the  veil,  has  slipped  behind  it.  Oh,  my  brother! 


January  7th. 

Sir  Lionel  is  going,  having  been  promoted  to  Brazil. 
It  is  an  indication  to  all  not  to  “monkey  with  the  buzz- 
saw” — i.  e.,  relations  between  the  United  States  and 
Mexico.  The  English  are  always  dignified  in  the  treat- 
ment of  their  representatives.  Instead  of  recalling  Sir 
L.,  when  faced  with  the  advisability  of  a change,  they 
send  him  to  Brazil,  a higher- ranking  post  with  a much 
larger  salary.  It  is  said  that  the  matter  was  crystallized 
by  his  strong  and  entirely  justified  recommendation  for 
the  proceeding  to  his  post  of  the  Italian  minister.  Ital- 
ian affairs,  since  the  departure  of  Aliotti,  had  been  in 
the  hands  of  the  British;  but  the  Italian  colony  here 
began  to  get  restive,  feeling  the  necessity,  in  these  troub- 
lous times,  of  having  their  own  representative,  who  had 
been  “waiting  and  watching”  so  long  at  Havana.  How- 
ever, nothing  can  be  successful  down  here  that  is  against 
the  United  States  policy — right  or  wrong.  The  Carden 

129 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


incident  will  doubtless  put  the  other  foreign  repre- 
sentatives on  their  guard. 

Von  Hintze  made  a most  enlightened  speech  at  the 
German  Club,  not  long  ago — in  which  he  said  that,  by 
reason  of  our  unalterable  geographical  relations  to  Mex- 
ico, the  United  States  would  always  have  paramount 
interests  here.  He  recommended  his  colony  not  to  make 
criticisms  of  our  policy — but  to  accept  it  as  inevitable 
and  natural. 

I am  wondering  if  I can  go  to  Vera  Cruz  with  N.  to- 
night without  causing  a panic  here.  He  -is  going  to  con- 
fer with  Mr.  Lind,  from  whom  we  had  a wire  this  morn- 
ing, saying  that  he  hoped  N.  would  find  it  possible  to 
come,  and  that  President  Wilson  sent  his  best  wishes. 
There  is  a norther  blowing  at  Vera  Cruz,  and  we  have 
the  resultant  penetrating  cold  up  here.  When  once  the 
heat  gets  out  of  the  body  at  this  altitude  it  is  difficult 
to  make  it  up.  I am  leaving  Elim,  as  a sort  of  hostage 
and  an  assurance  to  the  Colony  that  I am  not  fleeing. 
Dr.  Ryan  is  living  in  the  house,  also  the  Parkers,  and 
they  will  all  watch  over  him. 

As  soon  as  Huerta  heard  that  N.  was  going  to  Vera 
Cruz  he  sent  one  of  his  colonels  to  ask  if  we  wanted 
a special  train,  or  a private  car  attached  to  the  night 
express.  We  take  the  private  car,  only,  of  course; 
everybody  in  these  days  prefers  traveling  in  numbers. 
The  President  is  always  most  courteous  about  every- 
thing. If  he  cannot  please  Washington  he  does  what 
seems  to  him  the  next  best  thing — he  shows  courtesy 
to  its  representative.  He  said  to  d’Antin,  who  went 
to  thank  him,  in  N.’s  name,  for  the  car:  “ Mexico  es 
como  una  serpiente;  toda  la  vida  estd  cn  la  cabeza"  (‘ ‘ Mex- 
ico is  like  a snake;  all  its  life  is  in  its  head.”)  Then  he 
banged  his  head  with  his  small  fist  and  said,  “Yo  soy 
la  cabeza  de  Mexico!"  (‘‘I  am  the  head  of  Mexico!”)  “And 

130 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


until  I am  crushed,”  he  added,  “she  will  survive!” 
D’Antin,  who  is  a Frenchman  with  a Latin-American 
past,  probably  gave  him  words  of  consolation  that 
would  fit  neither  the  letter  nor  the  spirit  of  watchful 
waiting.  Huerta  is  magnetic.  There  is  no  disputing 
that  fact. 

Vera  Cruz,  January  8th. 

I am  writing  this  hasty  line  in  Mr.  Lind’s  dim  room  at 
the  Consulate,  to  let  you  know  that  we  slipped  quietly 
down  those  wondrous  slopes  last  night  without  hindrance. 

I am  decked  out  in  a white  skirt,  purple  hat  and  veil, 
and  purple  jersey.  We  have  struck  the  tail  end  of 
the  norther  and  the  temperature  is  delightful.  The 
moving-picture  man,  who  followed  us  down  last  night, 
is  now  trying  to  persuade  Mr.  Lind  and  N.  to  let  him 
“get  them”  in  conversation,  but  Mr.  Lind  refuses  on 
the  plea  that  he  is  not  in  politics.  I asked  him  how 
about  his  noble  Lincoln  head,  and  he  answered,  “Noth- 
ing doing;  that  unrepeatable  head  is  long  in  its  grave.” 
. . . The  admiral  is  announced. 


XI 


Dramatic  values  at  Vera  Cruz — Visits  to  the  battle-ships — Our  superb 
hospital-ship,  the  Solace — Admiral  Cradock’s  flag-ship— An  American 
sailor’s  menu — Three  “square  meals”  a day — Travel  in  revolutionary 
Mexico. 

“La  Siempre  Heroica,” 

Vera  Cruz,  January  gth. 

I AM  writing  in  my  state-room  before  getting  up. 

Yesterday  I sent  off  the  merest  scrap  by  the  Mon- 
terey. We  had  a long  and  interesting  day.  We  went 
with  Admiral  Fletcher  and  Commander  Stirling  to  the 
Dolphin  for  lunch.  Fortunately  the  admiral’s  flag  is 
flying  from  her  instead  of  from  the  Rhode  Island,  which 
is  anchored,  while  waiting  for  a good  berth  inside  the 
breakwater,  in  the  rough  sea  beyond  the  Isla  de  los 
Sacrificios. 

Captain  Earl  is  in  command  of  the  Dolphin,  the  de- 
spatch-boat that  successive  Secretaries  of  the  Navy  have 
used  for  their  journeyings  and  which  has  just  come  from 
“watching”  the  elections  in  Santo  Domingo.  The 
admiral  offered  to  put  us  up,  but  I thought  it  was  un- 
necessary to  trouble  him,  as  we  were  already  unpacked 
on  the  car.  Admiral  Fletcher,  besides  being  an  agree- 
able man  of  the  world,  is  an  open-minded,  shrewd,  ex- 
perienced seaman,  versed  in  international  usage,  know- 
ing just  what  the  law  allows  in  difficult  decisions,  where 
to  curtail  his  own  initiative  and  fall  in  with  established 
codes,  or  where  to  go  ahead.  The  splendid  order  and 
efficiency  of  the  men  and  matters  under  his  command 
are  apparent  even  to  my  lay  eyes. 

132 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


We  sat  on  deck  for  an  hour  or  so  after  lunch.  The 
harbor  is  like  a busy  town  — a sort  of  new  Venice. 
Launches  and  barges  are  constantly  going  from  one 
war-ship  to  another.  It  is  a very  different  scene  from 
the  one  my  eyes  first  rested  on  nearly  three  years  ago, 
when  the  Ward  Line  boat  bringing  us,  and  the 
Kronprinzessin  Cecelie  bringing  von  Hintze,  were  the 
only  boats  in  the  harbor.  I sent  a wireless  to  Admiral 
Cradock  to  let  him  know  that  we  are  in  town,  or  rather 
in  harbor,  and  he  wired  back  an  invitation  for  lunch 
to-day. 

On  leaving  the  Dolphin  Nelson  received  his  eleven 
salutes,  standing  up  w'ith  bared  head  in  the  admiral’s 
barge  as  they  thundered  across  the  bay.  We  then 
went  over  to  the  Monterey  to  say  good-by  to  Armstead, 
who  made  the  journey  down  with  us,  and  to  see  Captain 
Smith,  who  brought  us  first  to  the  land  of  the  cactus. 
The  various  boats,  Spanish,  French,  and  English,  saluted 
as  we  passed  in  the  Dolphin's  launch. 

In  the  evening  Mr.  Lind  had  a dinner  for  us  under  the 
poriales  of  the  Diligencias.  Admiral  Fletcher,  Consul 
Canada,  Commander  Yates  Stirling,  Captain  Delaney 
of  the  commissary-ship,  and  Lieutenant  Courts,  one  of 
the  admiral’s  aides,  were  the  guests.  The  Diligencias 
takes  up  two  sides  of  the  old  Plaza.  The  Municipal 
Palace,  a good  Spanish  building,  is  on  the  third  side,  and 
the  picturesque  cathedral  with  its  many  domes  and  bel- 
fries embellishes  the  last.  The  band  plays  every  night  in 
the  Plaza  and  the  whole  scene  is  gay  and  animated. 
Women  in  their  mantillas  and  rebozos,  dozens  of  tiny 
flower-girls,  newspaper  babes,  and  bootblacks  of  very 
tender  years  cluster  like  flies  around  soft-hearted  diners. 

The  Mexican  Herald  arrived  while  we  were  sitting 
there,  and  we  were  most  amused  by  the  head-lines: 
“ Five-Hour  Conference  This  Morning  Between  Lind 

10  133 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


and  O’Shaughnessy  Resumed  in  the  Afternoon.  ” ‘ ‘ Policy 
Not  Yet  Known.” 

At  nine-thirty  I broke  up  the  festive  gathering.  The 
admiral,  Mr.  Lind,  and  N.  went  off  toward  the  pier, 
and  Commander  Stirling  and  Lieutenant  Courts  brought 
me  back  to  the  car  in  a round-about  way  through  the 
quiet  streets.  As  half  after  four  is  a favorite  break- 
fast hour  here,  they  are  all  “early  to  bed.”  Vera  Cruz 
seems  the  most  peaceful  city  in  the  world  at  the  present 
moment,  though  no  port  in  the  world  has  seen  more 
horrors  and  heroisms.  Cortes  landed  there,  la  Villa 
Rica  de  la  Vera  Cruz,  as  he  called  it,  and  for  centuries 
the  seas  around  were  pirate-infested.  She  has  been 
sacked  by  buccaneers  times  without  number;  bombarded 
by  nearly  every  power  that  has  had  interests  here — the 
Spaniards,  ourselves  (in  1847),  the  French,  etc.;  and 
now  her  port  is  again  black  with  battle-ships  ready  to 
turn  their  twentieth-century  guns  upon  La  Siempre 
Heroica  (the  always  heroic).  Two  enemies  she  seems  to 
have  done  with — yellow  fever  and  cholera.  The  zopilotes 
(buzzards)  that  sail  about  in  uncountable  numbers  find 
it  rather  hard  to  get  a living.  I see  that  the  cleaning  up 
of  Guayaquil  has  been  given  to  an  English  firm,  who, 
however,  will  use  our  methods.  Very  few  Latin- 
American  contracts  will  be  given  to  Uncle  Sam  these 
days. 

Admiral  Fletcher  would  like  to  come  up  to  Mexico 
City,  which  he  has  never  seen,  but  after  all  these  months 
of  not  coming  he  could  only  do  so  now  officially  with  his 
staff — uniforms,  visits  to  Huerta  and  other  authorities — 
and  that  is  out  of  the  question.  I could  put  him  up 
at  the  Embassy,  with  his  two  aides,  and  am  quite  keen 
about  it,  and  so  is  he;  but  nothing  can  be  done  until 
what  the  newspapers  call  W atchmgton  has  been  sounded. 
Mr.  Lind  thinks  it  impossible  (he  knows  he  can’t  return), 

H4 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 

as  it  would  be  taken  as  a sign  that  the  President  might 
be  wishing  to  change  his  Mexican  policy.  On  the  other 
hand,  if  he  should  wish  to  change  that  policy,  such  a 
visit  could  be  the  entering  wedge,  and  lead  to  big  things 
in  the  way  of  peace  and  prosperity. 

Mr.  Lind  continues  to  think  that  the  raising  of  the 
embargo  on  arms  and  ammunition  in  the  north  is  the 
easiest  solution  of  the  problem;  but  I am  terrified  at 
such  an  issue.  The  last  state  of  Mexico  would  be  worse 
than  the  first.  It  might  settle  the  Huerta  dictatorship, 
but,  alas!  not  the  Mexican  situation. 

We  had  a most  comfortable  night.  Practically  no 
trains  come  and  go  in  the  station  at  night  and  there  is 
none  of  the  usual  dust  and  dirt  of  travel,  all  the  railroads 
burning  oil  instead  of  coal.  I go  at  ten  to  visit  our 
hospital-ship,  the  Solace,  and  I must  now  arise  and  buckle 
me  up  for  a long  day.  I have  a white  silk  tailor-made 
costume  and  various  fresh  blouses  to  choose  from.  Nel- 
son is  busy  with  newspaper  men,  who  have  discovered 
the  car. 

January  10th,  Morning. 

Before  I was  dressed  yesterday  morning  Mr.  Lind 
appeared  with  a steward  from  Captain  Delaney,  bring- 
ing me  some  delicious  hams  and  bacons  and  other  good 
things  from  the  supply-ship  to  take  to  Mexico  City. 
Then  Captain  Niblack  appeared,  looking  very  smart. 
He  was  our  naval  attach 6 in  Berlin,  relieved  only  last 
summer,  I think,  and  is  a charming  man  of  the  world. 
I wras  out  of  my  state-room  by  this  time  and  fresh 
myself,  but  the  state-room  looked  like  Messina  after 
the  earthquake.  General  Maass,  military  governor 
or  Commander  of  the  Port,  and  his  aide,  were  next  to 
appear.  He  shows  his  German  blood  in  various  ways 
( not  in  that  of  language,  however).  He  has  light,  up- 
standing hair,  German  eyes,  and  much  manner.  There 

135 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


were  many  bows  and  palaverings,  a los  pies  de  Vd.,  etc. 
He  put  his  automobile  at  our  disposition  for  the  day, 
and  it  was  my  car  by  the  time  he  had  finished  offer- 
ing it  after  the  courteous  Spanish  custom.  The  in- 
terview finally  ended  by  my  arranging  to  call  on  his 
senora  in  the  afternoon,  and  by  N.  escorting  him 
from  the  car  and  down  the  platform.  Lieutenant 
Courts  then  arrived  to  take  me  to  the  Solace.  All  the 
officers  look  so  smart  in  their  fresh  linens.  The  Solace 
was  lying  quite  inside  the  breakwater,  looking  very 
cool  and  inviting.  She  was  painted  white,  with  a broad, 
green  stripe  around  her — her  official  colors.  Dr.  von 
Wedekin  was  waiting  on  deck  with  his  staff.  I was  most 
interested  in  seeing  the  perfect  arrangements  for  the 
care  of  all  that  is  mortal  of  man;  even  eyes,  teeth,  ears, 
are  looked  after  in  a most  efficient  and  up-to-date 
way.  The  wards  are  fine,  large,  and  beautifully  venti- 
lated, the  air  as  sweet  and  as  fresh  as  that  on  deck; 
twenty-eight  cases  of  malaria  were  being  treated  after 
the  seven  days’  bout  at  Tampico,  and  half  a dozen  of 
appendicitis.  The  ship  carries  no  cargo,  having  the  medi- 
cal stores  for  the  whole  fleet.  The  captain  told  me  he 
had  not  lost  a case  of  anything  for  fourteen  months. 
His  operating-room  can  compare  with  that  of  any  hos- 
pital I have  ever  seen  and  the  ship  also  has  a fine  labora- 
tory. She  is  well-named  the  Solace. 

She  was  leaving  that  afternoon  for  Tampico,  which 
is  one  of  the  dreariest  spots  on  the  earth,  despite  the 
mighty  forces  at  work  there.  Mexico’s  oil  is  at  once 
her  riches  and  her  ruin.  The  place  is  malaria-ridden, 
infested  with  mosquitoes,  and  the  inhabitants,  I am 
told,  have  the  weary,  melancholy  expression  peculiar  to 
fever  districts.  The  ships  that  go  there  are  as  well 
screened  as  possible,  but  men  on  duty  can’t  always  be 
protected.  I understand  the  mosquito  that  does  the 

136 


ADMIRAL  SIR  CHRISTOPHER  CRADOCK  ADMIRAL  F.  F.  FLETCHER 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


damage  is  a gauzy,  diaphanous,  rather  large  kind,  and 
the  “female  of  the  species  is  deadlier  than  the  male.” 

On  leaving,  Lieutenant  Courts  took  me  for  a little 
turn  about  the  harbor,  as  it  was  too  early  for  the  Suffolk 
lunch.  We  went  around  the  ill-famed  prison  of  San 
Juan  Ulua.  Its  six  desolate  palms  are  almost  the  first 
thing  one  sees  on  entering  the  harbor.  I regret  that  I 
did  not  get  a pass  from  General  Maass  to  visit  it.  I 
saw  a few  pale,  hopeless-looking  prisoners  in  dull  blue 
and  white  stripes,  standing  on  the  parapets  or  work- 
ing in  the  dry  dock,  the  guns  of  soldiers  always  poking 
in  their  faces.  These  are  the  “better  class”  of  criminals; 
there  are  those  in  dark,  oozing,  terrible  holes  who  are 
never  allowed  outside  of  them,  and  it  is  said  that  those 
who  survive  lose  in  a few  years  all  human  semblance. 
The  foundations  of  the  fortress  were  laid  in  early  Cortes 
days  and  the  fortunes  and  misfortunes  of  the  town  have 
always  centered  round  it.  It  was  from  its  tower  that  the 
last  Spanish  flag  was  lowered  at  the  time  of  the  Mexican 
independence,  1821.  When  first  in  Mexico  I used  to 
hear  that  Madero  was  to  close  the  prison;  but,  like 
many  of  his  intentions,  this  never  became  a fact.  Peace 
to  his  soul ! 

We  got  back  to  the  Sanidad  landing  at  half  past  twelve. 
Admiral  Cradock’s  flag-lieutenant  was  waiting  with 
the  barge  and  I was  delivered  into  his  hands.  N.  came 
up  at  the  same  time  and  we  put  out  for  the  Suffolk, 
which  has  a berth  inside  the  breakwater.  The  admiral, 
very  handsome  and  agreeable,  not  only  immaculate, 
but  effulgent,  received  us  on  deck  and  we  went  down  to 
his  delightful  room.  It  contains  really  good  things 
from  all  parts  of  the  world — old  silver  from  Malta, 
a beautiful  twelfth-century  carving  (suitable  for  a 
museum)  from  Greece,  fine  enamels  from  Pekin,  where 
Sir  Christopher  distinguished  himself  during  the  siege, 

137 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


and  many  other  lovely  things,  besides  books  and  easy- 
chairs.  He  is  really  a connoisseur,  but  he  said  that  the 
ladies,  God  bless  them,  had  robbed  him  of  most  of  his 
possessions.  After  an  excellent  lunch  Captain  Niblack 
came  in  to  say  good-by,  the  Michigan  having  received 
sailing  orders  for  New  York.  We  had  such  a friendly 
talk  with  Sir  Christopher,  who  said — and  we  quite  con- 
curred— that  he  didn’t  see  any  cause  for  feeling  about 
British  action  in  Mexico,  adding  that  he  had  no  politics, 
no  idea  in  the  world  except  to  save  British  lives  and  prop- 
erty, and  that  he  and  Admiral  Fletcher  were  working  to- 
gether, he  hoped,  in  all  sympathy  and  harmony.  He 
wants  to  come  up  to  Mexico  again  and  jokingly  lays  it  at 
Nelson’s  door  that  he  can’t.  There  is  something  so  gal- 
lant about  him,  but  with  a note  of  sadness;  and  I am 
always  conscious  of  a certain  detachment  in  him  from 
the  personal  aims  of  life.  We  left  about  three  o’clock. 
The  English  use  black  powder  for  their  salutes  and  the 
thirteen  guns  made  a very  imposing  effect.  The  ship  was 
enveloped  in  smoke,  a sort  of  Turneresque  effect,  making 
one  think  of  “Trafalgar,”  while  the  shots  reverberated 
through  the  harbor. 

I went  back  to  the  Consulate  to  have  a little  talk  with 
Mr.  Lind,  then  got  into  the  Maass  auto,  which  was 
waiting  at  the  Consulate  door,  and  proceeded  to  pay  my 
respects  to  Senora  Maass.  General  Maass  has  a breezy 
house  at  the  barracks  at  the  other  end  of  the  town,  in 
front  of  the  rather  dreary  Alameda,  with  its  dusty  palms 
and  dry  fountain  and  general  wind-swept  appearance. 
An  endless  time  of  parleying  followed.  My  Spanish, 
after  a long  day,  gets  tired  like  myself.  However,  I saw 
them  all — daughters,  and  nieces,  and  friends,  and  the  par- 
rot and  the  dog;  the  beasts  were  most  useful  conversa- 
tionally. Then  the  family  sang  and  played,  and  one  of  the 
daughters,  pretty,  with  a clear  soprano,  gave  me  a good 

138 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


deal  of  Tosti.  Then  more  talk.  I was  getting  desperate, 
no  move  being  made  to  a large,  well-spread,  absolutely 
unavoidable,  preordained  table  in  the  comer.  I finally 
said  that  Captain  Niblack,  who  was  leaving  for  the 
United  States  in  the  morning,  was  waiting  for  me 
to  go  to  the  Michigan.  That  broke  through  the  tea 
impasse,  and,  after  partaking  of  the  collation,  I finally 
got  away,  escorted  on  General  Maass’s  arm  to  “my” 
automobile. 

I arrived  at  the  Consulate,  hot  and  tired,  and  without 
the  sustaining  feeling  that  “duty  is  a well-spring  in  the 
soul.”  I was  thankful  to  find  myself  at  last  in  the  Michi- 
gan's boat  with  Captain  Niblack  and  Nelson,  going  out 
across  a bay  of  wondrous  sunset  effects — “twilight  and 
evening  hour  and  one  last  call  for  me.”  It  was  a marvel- 
ous “crossing  the  bar.”  Looking  back,  the  outline  of 
the  Pico  de  Orizaba  made  a soft  violet  mass  against  the 
deepening  sky,  with  a strange,  red  lighting  up  of  the 
top.  The  bay  was  filled  with  ships  of  destruction  from 
all  over  the  world,  but  everything  in  nature  for  once  was 
soft  and  merciful  and  seemed  to  dissolve  and  harmonize 
discordant  and  destructive  meanings. 

The  Michigan  is  a huge  ship,  one  of  the  first  dread- 
naughts,  and  Captain  Niblack  is  both  enthusiastic  and 
earnest  about  his  work.  After  a glass  of  something — 
for  a lady  inclined  to  temperance  I have  drained  many 
pleasant  cups  to  their  cheerful  lees  these  days — we  all 
went  over  to  the  Chester,  a ship  of  the  scout  type,  that 
had  just  returned  with  Mr.  Lind  from  the  Pass  Christian 
trip.  There  we  picked  up  Captain  Moffett — who  also 
insisted  on  decocting  something  sustaining — and  then 
turned  shoreward,  where  Mr.  Lind  was  giving  another 
dinner  for  us,  under  the  portales  of  the  Diligencias. 
It  was  quite  dark,  but  a thousand  lights  from  a hundred 
boats  made  the  harbor  one  vast  jewel — not  in  the 

139 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


“Ethiop’s  ear,”  but  in  Mexico’s  poor,  battered,  tom 
ear.  At  half  after  nine,  after  another  pleasant  dinner,  I 
began  to  feel  that  my  bed  would  be  my  best  friend,  and 
we  went  back  to  the  car,  through  the  quiet,  well-lighted 
streets.  Women  were  leaning  over  the  little  green  bal- 
conies of  the  little  pink  houses  in  the  classic  Spanish 
style,  with  here  and  there  a note  of  guitar  or  mandolin. 
I thought  of  the  “Goyas”  in  the  Louvre. 

Vera  Cruz,  January  ioth,  6.30  p.m. 

Home  to  rest  a little  before  dressing  for  Admiral 
Fletcher’s  dinner  to-night,  for  which  we  decided  to 
stay  over.  We  spent  the  morning  on  the  Michigan, 
Captain  Niblack  giving  us  an  early  luncheon,  as  he  ex- 
pected till  noon  to  start  for  New  York  at  one  o’clock. 
The  officers  and  crew  were  full  of  anticipations  of  home. 
Then  the  Minnesota,  which  had  arrived  in  the  morning, 
expecting  to  replace  the  Michigan,  found  orders  awaiting 
her  to  coal  immediately  for  a trip  to  Panama.  Captain 
Simpson,  her  commander,  had  rushed  in  for  lunch  with 
Captain  Niblack,  and  there  got  the  wireless.  Captain 
N.  hated  to  tell  the  officers  and  the  crew  that  after  all 
the  months  of  waiting  at  Vera  Cruz  they  were  not  to 
leave,  their  hearts  had  been  beating  so  high.  The  crews 
are  never  allowed  ashore  for  fear  of  complications,  and 
it  is  no  light  task  to  keep  the  thousands  of  sailors  and 
marines  in  Vera  Cruz  harbor  well  occupied  and  content 
within  the  compass  of  their  ships.  They  are,  I can  testify, 
magnificently  fed.  At  lunch  Captain  Niblack  ordered 
for  us  some  of  the  soup  the  men  were  having,  a deli- 
cious bean  soup  with  pieces  of  sweet  pork ; also  the  meat 
served  us  was  the  same  as  theirs — a juicy,  tender  steak 
such  as  I couldn’t  get  in  Mexico  City  for  love  or  money. 
I also  got  the  printed  menu  for  the  week,  three  full, 
varied  meals  a day.  Judging  from  that  and  the  samples 

140 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


tasted  they  have  first-class  fare,  and  all  at  an  expense  of 
thirty  cents  a day  for  each  man. 

We  had  taken  on  board  with  us  Wallace,  the  moving- 
picture  man,  who  had  come  with  a letter  to  N.  from 
John  Bassett  Moore.  Captain  Niblack  had  the  drill, 
salutes,  etc.,  for  N.  on  leaving  the  boat,  so  I suppose 
that  brief  episode  of  our  career  will  be  duly  chronicled 
in  our  native  land.  After  leaving  the  Michigan  we  went 
again  to  the  Chester,  and  sat  on  deck  for  an  hour  or 
so  with  Captain  Moffett,  who  had  many  interesting 
things  to  tell  about  the  Tampico  fight.  A heavenly 
breeze  was  blowing.  Salutes  were  fired  as  usual  when  we 
left.  Some  one  made  the  little  joke  that  they  could 
“hear  us  walking  all  over  the  harbor.”  Going  from  one 
ship  to  another,  as  we  have  been  doing  for  three  days, 
I have  received  a tremendous  impression  of  the  might  and 
glory  of  our  navy,  and  of  the  noble,  clean,  and  wise 
lives  which  must  be  led  by  the  men  who  command  the 
ships. 

At  Orizaba,  ( the  Next  Morning),  January  nth,  10.30. 

Well,  traveling  in  Mexico  in  revolutionary  times  is 
all  that  it  is  supposed  to  be ! The  rebels  have  destroyed 
the  track  at  Maltrata  ahead  of  us,  sacked  and  burned 
fourteen  provision-cars,  damaged  a bridge,  and,  officials 
say,  we  are  held  up  until  to-morrow.  It  is  the  first  time 
anything  has  happened  on  this  road,  though  all  the  other 
lines  in  Mexico  have  been  cut  times  without  number. 
Maltrata,  above  which  the  damage  has  been  done,  is  the 
site  of  the  most  delicate  and  difficult  engineering-work 
on  the  line  and  a tempting  spot  for  havoc. 

I am  staying  in  my  state-room,  worn  out  with  the  com- 
ings and  goings  of  the  last  three  days.  A drizzling  rain 
is  falling,  the  results  of  the  norther  at  Vera  Cruz. 
Orizaba  is  known  politely  as  the  watering-pot  of  Mexico. 
I say  “politely,”  as  against  a somewhat  similar  name 

m 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


which  you  will  remember  is  applied  to  Rouen.  N.  is 
disgusted  at  not  getting  back  to  Mexico  City,  and  I 
dare  say  the  town  is  full  of  all  sorts  of  rumors  about  us. 
He  has  just  been  to  see  the  train-master,  who  has  simply 
had  orders  to  await  instructions;  no  tickets  are  to  be 
sold  further  than  Orizaba. 

I am  glad  of  these  moments  for  a little  word  with  my 
precious  mother.  Last  night  the  admiral’s  dinner  was 
most  agreeable.  The  Military  Commander  Maass  and 
his  wife  were  there,  Admiral  Cradock  with  two  of  his  offi- 
cers, Mr.  Lind,  the  Consul,  Yates  Stirling,  and  others 
of  the  admiral’s  staff.  I sat  on  Admiral  Fletcher’s 
left,  with  Maass  next  to  me.  The  conversation  was  in 
Spanish,  and  I worked  hard;  I told  the  admiral  that 
I deserved  a trip  to  Panama  as  a recompense.  The 
norte  which  had  been  announced  from  Tampico  began 
creakingly  and  ominously  to  make  itself  felt  and  heard 
about  half  after  nine.  The  admiral  gave  us  an  amusing 
picture  of  the  life  at  Tampico  with  a hundred  refugees, 
mostly  women  and  children,  on  board.  He  said  it  was 
a sweet  and  touching  sight  to  see  certain  baby  garments 
hung  out  to  dry  on  the  cannon,  and  officers  lulling  the 
little  innocents  to  sleep,  or  engaged  in  other  and  often 
unsuccessful  attempts  to  keep  the  refugees  pleased  and 
happy. 

At  about  ten  o’clock,  after  sitting  on  deck  awhile, 
the  norte  began  to  blow  stronger.  Senora  Maass,  stout, 
elderly,  and  placid,  did  not  seem  to  like  her  own  nortcs, 
so  we  proceeded  to  do  what  was  about  my  seventeenth 
gangway  that  day.  The  northers  of  Vera  Cruz  are  a 
great  feature  of  the  climate.  They  have  all  sorts  and  de- 
grees— the  nortes  fuertes  that  nearly  blow  the  town  away; 
the  nortes  chocolateros  that  are  milder,  last  a long  time, 
and  keep  the  place  healthy  and  bearable,  and  various 
others.  I don’t  know  what  kind  was  developing  last 

142 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


night,  but  after  an  uncertain  trip  we  were  dashed  up 
against  the  Sanidad  pier,  where  the  large  Maass  auto 
was  waiting.  We  said  good-by  to  Mr.  Lind  and  Mr. 
Canada  at  the  Consulate  door,  and  in  an  instant  they 
were  blotted  out  in  the  thick  darkness  of  the  gathering 
norte.  The  Maasses  took  us  on  to  the  station,  where  we 
parted  with  all  expressions  of  regard  and  compliments. 
I must  say  they  have  been  more  than  polite. 

I went  to  bed  immediately.  Jesus,  who  is  a gem,  had 
everything  in  order.  I don’t  think  I would  have  been 
able  to  don  my  filmy  black  gown  for  the  dinner  had  it 
not  been  for  his  deftness  and  general  efficiency.  At  six 
o’clock  they  hitched  our  car  onto  the  morning  train, 
with  indescribable  groanings  and  joltings,  and  this  is 
our  history  up  to  the  present  moment. 

Through  the  window  I see  only  bits  of  a dreary  station 
and  crowds  of  Indians  huddled  under  their  scrapes  and 
rebozos.  The  poor  wretches  do  so  hate  to  get  wet.  It 
means  hours  of  chill  until  the  garments  dry  on  them. 
Worried  train  employees  are  running  about.  I under- 
stand that  Orizaba,  in  spite  of  the  “watering-pot” 
effect,  is  a delightful  resort.  Many  people  from  Yuca- 
tan come  up  to  recuperate — rich  henequ^n  and  sisal 
planters;  there  are  all  the  beauties  and  marvels  of  the 
tropics  in  the  way  of  flowers  and  fruits,  orchids,  con- 
volvuli, ahuacate  pears,  pineapples,  pomegranates,  and 
a wonderfully  tonic,  even  temperature.  If  it  weren’t 
for  the  downpour  I would  venture  out  for  antiques. 
This  is  an  old  Spanish  city  and  there  are  lovely  things 
to  be  picked  up  in  the  way  of  ivory  and  wood  inlaid- 
work  if  one  is  lucky.  However,  I don’t  feel  like  being 
watered.  I haven’t  had  the  desire,  since  hearing  of  the 
hold-up,  to  tell  you  of  the  beauty  of  the  scenery  from 
Vera  Cruz,  but  look  at  those  first  enchanting  pages  of 
Prescott’s  Conquest.  He  who  never  saw  it,  describes  its 

H3 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


beauties  as  if  they  were  spread  before  him.  Though,  for 
really  up-to-date  reading  on  Mexico  give  me  Humboldt, 
1807.  He  still  seems  to  have  said  the  last  and  latest  word 
about  Mexico  and  Mexicans  as  we  know  them  to-day. 

Two  train -loads  of  Federal  soldiers,  well  armed,  have 
just  pulled  out  of  the  station,  where  women  were  weep- 
ing and  holding  up  baskets  of  food  to  them  as  they 
hung  out  of  the  windows.  They  were  laughing  and 
joking  as  befits  warriors.  Poor  wretches!  I couldn’t 
help  my  eyes  filling  with  tears.  They  go  to  reconnoiter 
the  track  for  us.  I suppose  it  is  known  everywhere  by 
now  that  the  American  charge  and  his  wife  are  held  up 
on  that  usually  safe  stretch  between  Orizaba  and  Mexico 
City.  A group  of  armed  men  are  standing  in  front  of  my 
window.  They  have  black  water-proof  covers  for  their 
large  hats,  like  chair  covers;  the  hats  underneath  are 
doubtless  gray  felt,  heavily  trimmed  with  silver.  One  sol- 
dier, apparently  as  an  incidental  effect,  has  a poor,  red- 
blanketed  Indian  attached  to  him  by  a lasso  tightened 
around  the  waist.  Nobody  pays  any  attention  to  them; 
not  even  the  women,  with  their  babes  completely  con- 
cealed and  tightly  bound  to  their  backs  or  breasts  by 
the  inevitable  rebozo.  One  feels  hopelessly  sad  at  the 
thought  of  the  world  of  chaos  those  little  heads  will,  in 
their  time,  peep  out  upon. 

A thick  and  heartbreaking  book  could  be  written 
upon  the  soldadera — the  heroic  woman  who  accompanies 
the  army,  carrying,  in  addition  to  her  baby,  any  other 
mortal  possession,  such  as  a kettle,  basket,  goat,  blanket, 
parrot,  fruit,  and  the  like.  These  women  are  the  only 
visible  commissariat  for  the  soldiers;  they  accompany 
them  in  their  marches;  they  forage  for  them  and  they 
cook  for  them;  they  nurse  them,  bury  them;  they  re- 
ceive their  money  when  it  is  paid.  All  this  they  do  and 
keep  up  with  the  march  of  the  army,  besides  rendering 

144 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


any  other  service  the  male  may  happen  to  require. 
It  is  appalling  what  self-abnegation  is  involved  in  this 
life.  And  they  keep  it  up  until,  like  poor  beasts,  they 
uncomplainingly  drop  in  their  tracks — to  arise,  I hope, 
in  Heaven. 

3 o’clock. 

There  is  some  idea  that  we  may  start.  Men  with 
ropes  and  hatchets  and  picks  are  getting  on  our  train. 


Later. 

We  arrived  at  Maltrata  to  be  met  by  dozens  of  wet 
Indian  women  selling  lemons,  tortillas,  and  enchiladas. 
Each  wore  the  eternal  blue  rebozo  and  a pre-Spanish  cut 
of  skirt — a straight  piece  of  cloth  bound  around  the 
hips,  held  somewhat  fuller  in  front.  They  are  called 
enredadas,  from  the  fashion  of  folding  the  stuff  about 
them.  Each,  of  course,  had  a baby  on  her  back. 

Long  lines  of  rurales  came  into  sight  on  horseback. 
With  full  black  capes  or  brilliant  red  blankets  thrown 
about  their  shoulders,  their  big-brimmed,  high-peaked 
hats,  with  their  black  rain-proof  covers,  these  men  made 
a startling  and  gaudy  picture  with  the  underthrill  of 
death  and  destruction.  We  have  been  moving  along  at 
a snail’s  pace.  In  a narrow  defile  we  came  on  one  of  the 
train-loads  of  Federals  we  had  seen  leave  Orizaba,  their 
guns  pointed,  ready  to  fire. 

Well,  so  far,  so  good.  We  hear  that  it  was  a band  of 
several  hundred  revolutionaries  who  attacked  the  train. 
The  train  officials  managed  to  escape  under  cover  of  the 
darkness. 

5-3o. 

We  have  just  passed  the  scene  of  pillage.  Dozens  of 
Indians — men,  women,  and  children — are  digging  out  hot 
bottles  of  beer,  boxes  of  sardines  and  other  conserves 
from  the  smoking  wreck.  Cars,  engine,  and  everything 

145 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


in  them  were  destroyed  after  the  brigands  had  selected 
what  they  could  carry  away. 

A white  mist  has  settled  over  the  mountain.  Many  of 
the  Indians  are  wearing  a sort  of  circular  cape  made  of 
a thatch  of  bamboo  or  grass  hanging  from  their  shoul- 
ders— a kind  of  garment  often  seen  in  wet  weather  in  this 
altitude.  It  is  marvelous  that  in  so  few  hours  a new 
track  could  be  laid  by  the  old  one.  We  are  passing  gin- 
gerly over  it,  and  if  nothing  else  happens  we  shall  be 
in  Mexico  City  after  midnight.  I am  too  tired  to  feel 
adventurous  to-day  and  shall  be  glad  to  find  myself 
with  my  babe  in  the  comfortable  Embassy,  instead  of 
witnessing  Zapatista  ravages  at  first  hand  in  a cold, 
gray  mist  which  tones  down  not  only  the  local  color, 
but  one’s  enthusiasm. 

Mexico  City,  January  12th. 

We  finally  arrived  about  one  o’clock  in  the  morning, 
to  be  met  by  many  newspaper  men  and  the  staff  of  the 
Embassy,  who  received  us  as  from  the  wars.  About 
fifty  soldiers  got  out  of  the  train  when  we  did ; and  really, 
in  the  unsparing  station  light  they  had  the  appear- 
ance of  assailants  rather  than  of  protectors.  In  a fight 
it  would  have  been  so  easy  to  confuse  the  roles.  I 
thought  they  had  long  since  given  up  putting  forces  on 
passenger-trains;  it  usually  invites  attack  on  account 
of  the  guns  and  ammunition. 

However,  all’s  well  that  ends  well,  and  I have  just  had 
my  breakfast  in  my  comfortable  bed  with  my  precious 
boy.  They  tell  me  he  has  been  ‘ ‘ good  ” while  his  mother 
was  away.  Mrs.  Parker  says  he  insisted  on  having  the 
lights  put  out  before  saying  his  prayers  at  night.  He 
was  so  dead  with  sleep  when  I got  in  that  he  didn’t 
open  his  eyes;  only  cuddled  up  to  me  when  he  felt  me 
near. 

The  newspaper  gives  details  of  the  Maltrata  wrecking. 

146 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


The  attacking  band  placed  a huge  pile  of  stones  on  the 
rails  at  the  entrance  to  the  tunnel,  fired  on  the  train, 
robbed  the  employees,  took  what  they  could  of  the  pro- 
visions (they  were  all  mounted  and  provided  with  am- 
munition), and  disappeared  into  the  night.  Hundreds  of 
workmen  have  been  sent  to  repair  the  damage,  and  a 
thousand  rurales  to  guard  and  pursue.  The  “Mexican” 
is  the  big  artery  between  this  city  and  Vera  Cruz,  and  if 
that  line  is  destroyed  we  would  be  entirely  cut  off. 
Nothing  gets  to  us  from  anywhere  now  except  from 
Vera  Cruz.  The  other  line  to  Vera  Cruz — the  Inter- 
oceanic — has  often  been  held  up  and  is  not  in  favor 
with  levanting  families.  It  is  about  time  for  one  of  the 
periodical  scares,  when  they  leave  their  comfortable 
homes  with  their  children  and  other  valuables,  for  the 
expensive  discomforts  of  the  “Villa  Rica  de  la  Vera 
Cruz.” 


XII 


Ojinaga  evacuated — Tepozotlan’s  beautiful  old  church  and  convent — 
Azcapotzalco — A Mexican  christening— The  release  of  Vera  Estanol — 
Necaxa — The  friars — The  wonderful  Garcia  Pimentel  library. 

January  14th. 

YESTERDAY  Huerta  decided  to  suspend  payment 
on  the  interest  on  the  national  debt  for  six  months, 
which  will  free  about  three  million  pesos  a month  for 
pacification  purposes.  He  denies  anything  approaching 
repudiation,  but  says  this  step  was  forced  on  him  by 
the  attitude  of  the  United  States.  It  will  make  the 
European  investors  rather  restive  under  “watchful 
waiting,”  though  they  can  employ  the  time  by  making 
large  and  frequent  additions  to  the  bill  they  intend  to 
present  to  Uncle  Sam,  pobrecito. 

Ojinaga  has  been  evacuated  by  General  Mercado, 
who  would  better  look  out  for  his  head.  Huerta  says 
he  is  going  to  have  him  shot.  Villa  will  use  Ojinaga  for 
strategic  purposes,  and  the  refugees,  four  thousand  offi- 
cers and  soldiers  and  about  two  thousand  five  hundred 
women  and  children,  are  eventually  to  be  interned  at 
Fort  Bliss.  Uncle  Sam  will  present  the  bill  to  Mexico 
later  on.  They  have  been  started  on  a four  days’  march 
to  Marfa,  where  they  will  at  last  get  a train.  Mercado 
says  he  only  surrendered  and  passed  on  to  American 
soil  when  his  ammunition  gave  out.  The  soldiers  and 
generals — six  of  these  last  were  in  Ojinaga — will  not  be 
permitted  to  return  to  Mexico  until  peace  is  effected. 

148 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


From  the  head-lines  in  some  Heralds  I am  sending  you, 
you  can  see  that  that  won’t  be  immediately. 

Of  course  our  delay  on  the  journey  made  a sensation. 
Dr.  Ryan  heard  that  we  were  held  up  in  a tunnel  and 
was  planning  to  get  to  our  relief  by  hook  or  crook. 
He  is  “without  fear  and  without  reproach.”  I am  very 
glad  to  be  safe  again  in  this  big,  comfortable,  sun- 
bathed house. 

N.  went  to  see  Huerta  a day  or  two  ago.  The  Presi- 
dent was  most  relieved  to  have  him  safely  back.  He 
asked  him  the  results  of  his  visit  to  Vera  Cruz  and  N. 
told  him  there  was  no  change  in  the  attitude  of  his 
government.  Huerta  remained  impassive,  and  there  was 
no  further  political  conversation.  He  promised,  how- 
ever, that  he  would  attend  to  several  matters  of  the 
United  States,  in  regard  to  claims,  etc.,  affecting  rather 
large  interests.  There  are  some  advantages  in  living 
under  a dictator,  if  you  enjoy  his  favor,  and  Huerta 
would  barter  his  soul  to  please  the  United  States  to  the 
point  of  recognition. 

While  not  convinced  of  the  necessity,  or  even  advis- 
ability, of  formal  recognition,  N.  does  realize  that  every- 
thing for  Mexico  and  the  United  States  could  have  been 
accomplished  by  diplomacy  in  the  early  stages  of  Hu- 
erta’s incumbency.  Now  the  bullying  and  collusive  and 
secret  arrangements  with  his  enemies,  the  revolution- 
aries, to  overthrow  him,  must  eventually  succeed,  and 
in  his  fall  we  fear  Huerta  will  take  down  with  him  the 
entire  fabric  of  state.  How  often  he  has  said,  “I  don’t 
ask  your  help;  but  don’t  help  my  enemies!” 


Sunday  Evening,  January  18th. 

To-day  we  had  a long  motor  trip  to  the  old  church  and 
convent  of  Tepozotlan,  with  Seeger,  Hay,  the  Tozzers, 
and  Elim.  There  were  pistols  under  the  seats,  of  course, 
ll  H9 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


though  the  road  (the  old  post-road  to  the  north)  is  not 
a haunt  of  the  Zapatistas.  We  drove  two  hours  or  more 
through  the  dazzling  air,  the  road  running  for  miles 
between  picturesque  fields  planted  with  maguey,  the 
Indian’s  all,  including  his  perdition.  Here  and  there  are 
collections  of  adobe  huts,  with  bright-eyed,  naked  chil- 
dren playing  by  fences  of  nopal,  and  sometimes  a lovely 
candelabra  cactus  standing  guard.  We  passed  through 
Cuauhtitlan — a most  interesting  place,  with  its  deserted, 
picturesque  hostelries  that  used  to  do  a lively  relay 
trade  in  the  old  coaching  days.  Each  carved  door, 
with  glimpses  of  the  big  courtyard  within,  seems  to  tell 
the  tale  of  past  activities. 

Tepozotlan  is  celebrated  for  its  beautiful  old  church, 
with  a fine  carved  fagade,  built  by  the  Jesuits  at  the  end 
of  the  sixteenth  century.  It  was  suppressed  in  1857, 
under  the  Juarez  laws  of  reform,  and  is  now  neglected, 
solitary,  and  lovely.  Cypresses  guard  the  entrance  to 
its  grass-grown  patio,  adorned  by  a few  pepper-trees, 
with  here  and  there  an  occasional  bit  of  maguey.  It 
was  all  sun-baked  and  radiant,  receiving  the  many- 
colored  light  and  seeming  to  give  it  forth  again  in  the 
magic  way  of  the  Mexican  plateau.  We  wandered 
through  the  church,  which  preserves  its  marvelous  altar- 
pieces  in  the  Churrigueresque  style,  and  admired  the 
gilded,  high-relief  wood  carvings,  to  which  time  has  lent 
a marvelous  red  patine.  Some  of  the  old  chapels  are 
still  most  beautifully  adorned  with  rich  blue  Puebla 
tiles,  now  loosened  and  falling  from  neglected  ceilings 
and  walls.  The  adjoining  seminario,  with  its  endless  cor- 
ridors and  rooms,  is  dim  and  deserted,  except  for  spiders 
and  millions  of  fleas;  I thought  at  first,  in  my  innocence, 
that  these  were  gnats,  as  they  settled  on  my  white 
gloves.  We  lunched  in  the  enchanting  old  patio  of  the 
cloisters,  where  orange-trees  and  a Noche  Buena  tree,  with 

150 


Copy  rig  nt  by  Unuerwooti  cc  underwood 


huerta's  soldiers  watching  the  rebel  advance 


Copyngru  by  underwood  & Underwood 

A GROUP  OF  OJINAGA  REFUGEES 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


its  brilliant  red  flowers,  were  growing  around  an  old 
stone  well  in  the  middle.  For  those  hours,  at  least,  we 
felt  that  all  was  well  with  the  world.  Afterward  we 
climbed  the  belfry  and  feasted  our  eyes  on  the  beauty  un- 
folded to  our  sight.  East,  west,  south,  and  north  other 
pink  belfries  pressed  themselves  against  other  blue  hills, 
repeating  the  loveliness  until  one  could  have  wept  for  the 
beauty  of  it  all.  The  almost  deserted  village,  straggling 
up  to  the  patio  of  the  church,  is  where  Madre  Matiana 
was  bom  at  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century.  She 
made,  on  her  death-bed,  the  celebrated  prophecies  which 
have  been  so  strangely  confirmed  by  subsequent  events 
in  Mexican  history. 

The  Ojinaga  refugees,  garrison,  and  civilians  are  just 
arriving  after  the  four  days’  march  through  the  desert  to 
Marfa  and  Fort  Bliss.  This  affair  has  cost  $142,000  up 
to  date,  and  $40,000  were  spent  for  new  equipments  for 
officers.  I think  every  officer  in  Mexico  will  contem- 
plate, for  a brief  moment,  the  idea  of  crossing  the  fron- 
tier. There  will  be  a good  deal  of  disillusionment  and 
suffering  in  the  detention  camp,  however,  if  the  soldiers 
are  called  on  to  comply  with  the  hygienic  rules  of  the 
American  army. 

Jesus  Flores  Magon,  whom  we  knew  as  Minister  of 
Gobemacion  under  Madero,  a strong  and  clever  man  of 
pronounced  Zapoteca  Indian  type,  is  going  to  Vera  Cruz 
at  N.’s  suggestion,  to  see  Mr.  Lind.  Flores  Magon,  who 
knows  his  people,  says  there  is  no  use  in  “trying  out  ” an- 
other government  here.  Though  he  was  in  Madero’s 
cabinet,  he  is  now  for  the  sustaining  of  Huerta.  He  thinks 
another  government  would  only  mean  another  set  of 
traitors,  who  would,  in  turn,  be  betrayed.  N.  asked  him 
if  he  were  convinced  that  Huerta  had  other  aims  in  view 
than  the  graft  and  personal  aggrandizement  his  enemies 
credit  him  with.  Though  not  unreservedly  enthusiastic, 

iSi 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


he  answered  that  he  thought  he  had  within  him  the  el- 
ements necessary  to  control  in  Mexico,  but  that,  like 
all  Indians,  he  was  cruel.  Lind  is  out-and-out  for  recog- 
nizing the  northern  rebels,  or,  at  least,  raising  the  em- 
bargo on  arms  and  ammunition.  A terrible  policy,  it 
seems  to  me.  Taking  from  the  possessors  to  give  to  those 
desirous  of  possessing  can  hardly  mend  things — here  or 
anywhere.  Nothing  that  Mr.  Lind  has  seen  or  heard  has 
modified  in  the  slightest  the  ideas  with  which  he  arrived. 

Dclcndus  est  Huerta  is  the  mot  d'ordre,  and  I find  myself 
assisting  at  the  spectacle.  I am  dazed  at  this  flying  in 
the  face  of  every  screaming  fact  in  the  situation.  N. 
went  to  see  Moheno  yesterday,  with  the  usual  bundle  of 
claims  against  the  government,  and  M.  said,  in  a wild, 
distraught  way : ‘ ‘ My  God ! When  are  you  going  to  in- 
tervene? You  are  strangling  us  by  this  policy.” 

We  hear  from  a railroad  man  (they  are  always  in- 
formed) that  there  are  twyo  thousand  well-armed  men  in 
Oaxaca,  doing  nothing — simply  awaiting  orders.  They 
are  Felicistas.  Everybody  is  waiting  to  betray  every- 
body else. 

I had  to  stop  writing  for  a few  minutes;  one  of  those 
strange  accompaniments  of  life  in  Mexico  has  just  mani- 
fested itself — a slight  earthquake.  The  doors  that  were 
ajar  swung  quietly  open  and  as  quietly  closed  themselves. 
The  chandeliers  were  thrown  out  of  plumb  in  a rhythmic 
way;  there  was  a sliding  sound  of  small  objects  from 
their  position  and  then  back.  I had  an  unpleasant  sort  of 
depolarized  sensation.  It  is  all  over  now — the  temblor, 
as  they  call  it.  But  I feel  as  if  some  ghost  has  passed 
through  the  room,  leaving  me  not  quite  the  same. 


January  20th. 

The  papers  have  the  report  of  the  five  hours’  conver- 
sation between  Flores  Magon  and  Lind  at  Vera  Cruz. 

152 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


Lind  is  reported  as  saying:  “Flores  Magon  is  a splendid 
gentleman,  with  the  welfare  of  Mexico  at  heart.’’ 

We  continually  ask  ourselves  what  is  going  to  hap- 
pen. Mexico  is  not,  by  any  means,  starved  out;  there  is 
plenty  of  food,  there  is  money  for  oil  stock  and  bull- 
fights, and  other  necessaries.  We  may  have  to  see 
Pancho  Villa  in  a dress-suit.  He  has  collected  wives,  as 
he  would  anything  else,  in  his  paso  de  vencedor  through 
Mexico,  and  I understand  that  some  of  them  are  cu- 
rios. I suppose  accident  will  decide  which  one  he  will 
turn  up  with  as  “first  lady  in  the  land.”  A recent  por- 
trait of  one  of  them  drove  a woman  we  knew  nearly 
crazy.  It  showed  the  “bride”  decked  out  in  an  old 
family  necklace  forcibly  taken  from  our  friend,  with 
other  valuables,  before  her  flight  from  Torreon. 

Yesterday  I went  to  the  christening  of  the  Corcuera 
Pimentel  baby.  The  young  mother,  very  pretty,  was 
still  in  bed,  enveloped  in  beautiful  and  costly  laces,  and 
the  house  was  full  of  handsome  relatives.  After  I had 
congratulated  her,  Don  Luis,  her  father,  took  me  out 
to  tea.  The  table  was  laden  wTith  all  sorts  of  delicacies, 
foreign  and  domestic.  I partook  of  the  delicious  tamales, 
appetizingly  done  up  and  cooked  in  corn-husks  d la 
Mexicaine,  and  drank  atolli  aurora,  a thick,  pink  drink 
of  corn-meal  and  milk,  flavored  with  cinnamon  and  col- 
ored with  a dash  of  carmine — though  less  exotic  dainties 
were  pressed  on  me. 

January  21st. 

Yesterday  was  a busy  day.  To  show  you  how  difficult 
it  often  is  to  get  hold  of  Huerta, — N.  was  up  and  out  at 
seven-thirty,  looking  for  him.  He  went  to  his  house — • 
gone.  He  wTent  to  Popotla,  a place  Huerta  has  in  the 
suburbs  near  the  Noche  Triste1  tree.  Not  there.  N.  came 

lThe  celebrated  Arbol  de  la  Noche  Triste  is  an  old,  weather-beaten 
cypress,  which  has  been  cherished  and  doctored  by  botanical  commis* 

153 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


home.  I was  just  starting  down-town,  so  I drove  him  to 
the  Palace,  where  one  of  the  aides  said  the  President 
might  be  found  at  Chapultepec — the  restaurant,  not  the 
castle,  which  he  does  not  affect.  We  again  went  the 
length  of  the  city,  from  the  Zocalo,  through  Plateros,  up 
the  beautiful,  broad  Paseo.  Huerta  was  just  passing 
through  the  entrance  to  the  Park  in  a big  limousine,  fol- 
lowed by  two  other  automobiles  containing  secretaries 
and  aides.  N.  got  out  of  our  auto  and  went  into  that  of 
the  President,  the  others  keeping  their  distance.  There  is 
always  more  or  less  “waiting  around ” on  royalty.  They 
sat  there  for  an  hour,  I remaining  in  our  auto,  during  which 
time  N.  procured  the  release  of  Vera  Estanol,  one  of  the 
most  brilliant  of  the  Deputies,  imprisoned  since  the 
coup  d’etat  of  October  ioth.  Huerta  also  sent  one  of  his 
aides  with  a note  to  the  Supreme  Court,  written  and 
signed  by  him,  telling  the  judges  to  render  a just  de- 
cision in  a case  affecting  American  interests,  which 
is  now  before  the  court.  This  case  has  been  in  the 
Embassy  nearly  twenty  years,  and  four  of  our  ad- 
ministrations have  tried,  without  result,  to  get  justice 
done  through  the  Embassy,  using  every  form  of  diplo- 
matic representation.  Though  N.  saw  him  write  the 
order,  and  the  auto  which  took  the  note  started  off  in 
the  direction  of  the  Supreme  Court,  and  returned,  hav- 
ing delivered  it,  no  one  can  tell  what  wink  may  later  be 
given  the  judges. 

I came  home  and  ordered  a room  to  be  prepared  for 
Vera  Estanol,  as,  of  course,  he  must  remain  with  us 

sioners  and  outraged  by  mobs.  Under  it  Cort6s  is  supposed  to  have 
sat  and  wept  as  he  saw  defile  before  him  the  tattered  remnants  of  his 
army  after  the  terrible  retreat  from  Tenochtitlan,  July  2,  1520.  There 
are  three  of  these  especially  historic  trees  which  survived  the  horrors  of 
the  Conquest — the  others  are  the  A rbol  de  Montezuma,  in  the  Chapultepec 
park,  and  the  great  Tree  of  Tule,  in  Oaxaca,  which  sheltered  Cort6s  and 
his  venturesome  company  on  their  way  to  Honduras. — E.  O’S. 

154 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


until  he  can  be  shipped  to  the  States  or  to  Europe.  I 
imagine  that  the  clean  bed  and  the  hot  water  and  the 
reading-lamp  and  desk  will  look  very  pleasant,  after 
three  months  in  jail.  N.  wrote  and  signed  a letter 
to  Huerta,  in  which  he  guarantees  that  Vera  E stand 
will  not  mix  in  politics  and  will  immediately  leave 
the  country  with  his  family.  He  is  one  of  the  most 
prominent  and  gifted  lawyers  in  the  republic,  liberal 
and  enlightened,  and  head  of  the  Evolucionista  party. 
N.  was  out  until  midnight  trying  to  find  the  President, 
to  get  the  final  order  for  his  release,  but  was,  in  the  end, 
obliged  to  give  it  up.  The  old  man  has  ways  of  disap- 
pearing when  no  one  can  track  him  to  ground.  This 
morning,  N.  is  after  him  again,  and,  I suppose,  will  bring 
Vera  Estaflol  to  the  house,  whence  he  will  take  the 
well-worn  route  of  hastily  departing  patriots  to  Vera 
Cruz. 

Yesterday  afternoon  Mrs.  Tozzer,  Mr.  Seeger,  and  I 
motored  out  beyond  Azcapotzalco,  where  Tozzer  and 
Hay  are  excavating.  Anywhere  one  digs  in  these  sub- 
urbs may  be  found  countless  relics  of  Aztec  civiliza- 
tion. Azcapotzalco  was  once  a teeming  center,  a great 
capital,  and  there  were  then,  as  now,  many  cypress  groves. 
One  of  them  is  still  supposed  to  be  haunted  by  Marina, 
Cortes’  Indian  love. 

Built  on  the  site  of  the  temple,  teocalli,  is  an  interest- 
ing old  Dominican  church  of  the  sixteenth  century;  its 
great  patio,  planted  with  olive  and  cypress  trees  is  inclosed 
by  a pink  scalloped  wall,  marvelously  patine.  Here  the 
Indians  came  in  masses,  were  baptized,  had  their 
wounds  bound  up,  their  ailments  treated,  their  strifes 
allayed,  by  the  patient  friars.  As  we  went  slowly  over 
the  broken,  neglected  road  little  boys  offered  us  beads 
and  idols  and  bits  of  pottery,  which  are  so  abun- 
dant in  the  fields  that  it  is  scarcely  necessary  to  dig 

iS5 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


for  them.  T.  and  C.  H.,  for  their  work,  simply  chose 
a likely-looking  sun-baked  mound,  planted  with  maguey, 
like  dozens  of  others,  and  with  twenty-five  or  thirty 
picturesque  and  untrustworthy  descendants  of  Mon- 
tezuma (one  skips  back  six  or  seven  hundred  years 
with  the  greatest  ease  when  one  looks  at  them)  they 
dug  out  an  old  palace.  When  we  demanded  regalitos 
(presents),  our  friends  drew,  unwillingly,  from  their 
dusty  pockets  some  hideous  heads  and  grotesque  forms, 
caressed  them  lovingly,  and  then  put  them  back,  un- 
able, when  it  came  to  the  scratch,  to  part  with  them. 

It  is  a heavenly  spot.  Here  and  there  a pink  belfry 
showed  itself,  its  outline  broken  by  a dead  black  cypress ; 
the  marvelous,  indescribable  hills,  both  near  and  far, 
swam  in  a strange  transparency. 

We  sat  long  among  the  grubby,  mixed  Toltec  and 
Aztec  ruins,  and  made  tea,  and,  in  what  may  have 
been  some  patrician’s  parlor,  watched  the  sun  go  down 
in  a blaze  of  colors,  reappearing,  as  it  were,  to  fling  a 
last,  unexpected  glory  over  the  snow-covered  volcanoes 
and  the  violet  hills.  Every  shaft  of  maguey  was  outlined 
with  light,  the  whole  universe  a soft  spectrum.  A mys- 
terious, blue-lined  darkness  fell  upon  us  as  we  drove 
toward  the  city. 

January  23d. 

N.  was  only  able  to  get  Vera  Estanol  out  of  the  Pen- 
itenciaria  on  Wednesday  afternoon.  He  didn’t  come 
here,  but  was  taken  immediately  to  the  station,  caught 
the  night  train  to  Vera  Cruz,  and  sailed  yesterday, 
Thursday,  by  the  Ward  Line  steamer.  When  N.  went 
to  the  prison  with  the  President’s  aide,  carrying  the  order 
for  his  release  and  the  duly  signed  safe-conduct,  Estanol 
came  into  the  waiting-room  with  a volume  of  Taine’s 
Histoire  Contcmporaine  in  his  hand,  and  the  detached  air 
acquired  by  persons  who  have  long  been  in  jail.  There 

156 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


was  scarcely  any  conversation,  his  one  idea  being  to  leave 
the  building  and  get  to  the  train  under  American  cover. 

Huerta  told  N.  yesterday  that  General  Mercado 
had  been  bribed  by  wealthy  persons  in  Chihuahua 
to  go  to  Ojinaga  on  the  frontier,  instead  of  going  to 
Jimenez,  where  he  had  been  ordered.  He  feels  very 
bitter  toward  Mercado,  who  cost  him  4,000  good  sol- 
diers. Mercado  makes  all  sorts  of  counter-charges 
against  the  other  generals,  especially  against  Orozco — of 
cowardice,  of  placing  drunken  officers  in  important  po- 
sitions, and  of  robbing  their  own  Federal  trains  of  pro- 
visions. General  Inez  Salazar’s  fate  is  tragi-comic.  He 
wTas  arrested  for  playing  “a  little  game  of  cards”  on  the 
Texas  train,  never  suspecting  that  in  a free  country  you 
could  not  do  such  a thing.  After  escaping  the  rebels  and 
the  American  authorities  he  was  most  chagrined  to  be 
jailed  and  consequently  identified  just  as  he  was  about 
to  recross  the  border  into  Mexico. 

Wednesday  we  had  a pleasant  lunch  at  the  Norwegian 
Legation.  The  Norwegian  minister  is  the  son  of  Jonas 
Lie.  He  and  his  wife  are  cultivated  people  of  the  world, 
and  kind  friends.  Madame  Lie  always  has  delicious 
things  to  eat,  very  handsomely  served.  One  knows  that 
■when  things  are  well  done  here  it  means  that  the  lady  of 
the  house  has  given  them  her  personal  care.  In  the 
evening  there  was  bridge  at  Mme.  Bonilla’s.  The  lights 
suddenly  wTent  out,  as  we  were  playing,  and  remained 
out.  As  is  usual  in  such  occurrences,  the  cry  was,  ‘‘At 
last  the  Zapatistas  are  cutting  the  wires!”  Madame  B. 
got  out  some  beautiful  old  silver  candlesticks  and  we 
played  on  recklessly,  with  our  fate,  perhaps,  upon  us. 
The  street  lamps  were  also  dark. 

Mexico  City  is  lighted  from  Necaxa,  nearly  a hundred 
miles  away,  and  one  of  the  loveliest  spots  in  the  world. 
In  a day  one  drops  down  from  the  plateau  into  the  hot 

157 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


country;  the  train  seems  to  follow  the  river,  which 
flows  through  a wild  and  beautiful  barranca,  and  at 
Necaxa  are  the  great  falls  supplying  the  power  for  this 
wonderful  feat  of  engineering.  In  my  mind  it  is  a mem- 
ory of  blue  skies,  enchanting  vistas  of  blue  mountains, 
myriads  of  blue  butterflies  against  falling  water,  bright 
singing  birds,  and  the  most  gorgeous  and  richest  of  trop- 
ical vegetation,  vine-twisted  trees,  orchids,  morning- 
glories  of  all  kinds,  and  countless  other  magnificences. 
I sometimes  think  that  it  is  because  Mother  Earth  is  so 
lavish  here,  asking  only  to  give,  demanding  nothing  of 
her  children,  that  they  have  become  rather  like  spoiled 
children.  Every  mountain  oozes  with  precious  ores.  On 
the  coast,  any  accidental  hole  in  the  earth  may  reveal 
the  oil  for  which  the  world  is  so  greedy;  and  each  green 
thing  left  to  itself  will  come  up  a thousandfold.  Marvel- 
ous, magical  Mexico ! A white  moon  is  shining  in  through 
the  windows  of  the  front  salon,  making  my  electric  lamp 
seem  a dull  thing.  At  this  altitude  the  moonlight  cuts 
out  objects  as  if  with  a steel  point. 

Yesterday,  Mr.  Prince,  Aunt  Laura’s  friend,  and 
brother-in-law  of  Mr.  C.,  came  to  lunch.  Mr.  C. 
died  during  the  bombardment,  and  in  his  last  illness  was 
moved  from  house  to  hospital,  and  from  the  hospital, 
when  that  was  shelled,  to  another  house,  opposite  the 
Embassy.  During  the  armistice  Mr.  P.  was  able  to  go 
out  for  a coffin,  and  to  take  it  himself  on  a cab  to  the  cem- 
etery. This  was  the  only  way  to  dispose  of  it,  the  town 
being  under  fire  at  the  time.  That  same  week  one  of 
the  little  boys  had  his  foot  crushed  by  the  tramway,  and 
it  had  to  be  amputated  while  shot  and  shell  were  falling 
and  his  father  was  lying  dead.  Emma,  the  child  who 
fell  through  my  glass  roof,  two  years  ago,  has  never 
since  walked.  A chapter  of  tragedies!  Mrs.  C.  is  now 
in  the  States,  trying  to  recuperate. 

158 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


Hanihara,  the  bright  secretary  from  the  Japanese 
Foreign  Office,  who  is  here  to  look  into  the  conditions 
and,  doubtless,  the  possibilities  of  the  Japanese  situa- 
tion in  Mexico,  turned  up  yesterday;  we  used  to  know 
him  in  Washington.  He  speaks  English  perfectly,  and  is 
Europeanized,  externally,  to  an  unusual  extent,  but,  of 
course,  he  remains  completely  Japanese  at  bottom.  I 
shall  give  a luncheon  for  him  at  Chapultepec,  with  his 
minister,  the  retiring  Austrian  charge,  and  the  new  Ital- 
ian minister,  who  fell  at  my  door,  the  day  before  yes- 
terday, and  was  laid  up  with  a bad  knee.  I had  him 
bound  up  by  Dr.  Ryan. 

I saw  a man  yesterday  who  had  known  Villa  in  his 
purely  peon  days;  he  said  some  mental,  if  not  moral, 
evolution  had  been  going  on;  among  other  things,  he 
generally  keeps  to  the  regulation  amount  of  clothing,  but 
a collar  gets  on  his  nerves  almost  as  much  as  the  men- 
tion of  Porfirio  Diaz — his  pet  abomination.  He  keeps 
himself  fairly  clean,  and  has  shown  himself  clever  about 
finding  capable  agents  to  whom  he  is  willing  to  leave  the 
gentler  mysteries  of  the  three  R’s.  We  wonder  who  is 
getting  out  certain  polished  political  statements  appear- 
ing under  his  name.  What  he  once  did  to  an  official 
document,  on  an  official  occasion,  instead  of  signing  his 
name,  pen  cannot  relate.  He  evidently  has  military 
gifts,  but  remains,  unfortunately,  one  of  the  most  ig- 
norant, sanguinary,  and  ruthless  men  in  Mexico’s  history, 
knowing  nothing  of  the  amenities  of  life,  nothing  of 
statesmanship,  nor  of  government  in  any  form  except 
force.  And  he  may  inhabit  Chapultepec. 

D’Antin  brought  home  a beautiful  saltillo,  a hand- 
woven,  woolen  sort  of  serape,  about  a hundred  years  old, 
that  he  got  from  an  Indian  at  a price  so  small  I hate  to 
think  of  it.  He  saw  it  on  the  Indian  on  the  street,  one 
cold  night,  and  his  clever  eye  realized  what  it  was.  I am 

159 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


not  quite  happy  about  it;  but  I have  had  it  disinfected 
and  cleaned.  I can  only  bring  myself  to  use  it  because 
some  one  said  the  Indian  had  probably  stolen  it. 

Elim  is  singing  at  the  top  of  his  voice  the  popular  air, 
“ Marieta , no  seas  coqueta  porqne  los  hombres  son  muy 
malos ” (“Marieta,  don’t  be  a coquette,  because  men 
are  very  wicked”). 

January  23d,  Evening. 

I spent  a quiet  evening  reading  the  fascinating  book 
Don  L.  Garcia  Pimentel  sent  me  yesterday,  Bibliografia 
Mexicana  de  lo  Siglo  XVI.  I am  impressed  anew  with 
the  wonderful  work  done  by  that  handful  of  friars,  Fran- 
ciscans and  Dominicans,  who  came  over  immediately 
after  Cortes  and  began  with  the  Conquistadores  the 
work  of  Spanish  civilization  in  the  new  world.  Their 
first  acts,  as  they  made  their  way  through  the  country, 
were  to  do  away  with  the  bloody  sacrificial  rites  which 
disgraced  and  discredited  the  Aztec  civilization.  They 
built  everywhere  churches,  hospitals,  and  schools,  teach- 
ing gentler  truths  to  the  Indians,  who  gathered  by 
thousands  for  instruction  in  the  beautiful  old  patios  to 
be  found  in  front  of  all  the  colonial  churches. 

One  might  almost  say  that  Mexico  was  civilized  by 
that  handful  of  friars,  sixteen  or  seventeen  in  all,  who 
came  over  during  the  first  eight  or  ten  years  following 
the  Conquest.  Their  burning  zeal  to  give  the  true  faith 
to  the  Indians  dotted  this  beautiful  land  with  countless 
churches,  and  an  energy  of  which  we  can  have  no  concep- 
tion changed  the  gorgeous  wilderness  into  a great  king- 
dom. Padre  Gante,  one  of  the  greatest  of  them,  who  ar- 
rived in  1522,  was  related  to  the  Emperor  Charles  V.  He 
had  been  a man  of  the  world,  and  was  a musician  and  an 
artist.  He  had  his  celebrated  school  at  Tlaltelolco,  now 
the  Plaza  de  Santiago,  which,  shabby  and  shorn  of  all  its 
ancient  beauty,  is  used  as  the  city  customs  headquarters. 

160 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


lie  wrote  his  Doctrina  Christiana  and  baptized  hundreds 
of  thousands  of  Indians  during  his  fifty  years’  work.  He 
not  only  taught  them  to  read  and  write,  but  started 
schools  of  drawing  and  painting,  at  which  he  found  them 
very  apt.  They  already  possessed  formulas  for  all  sorts 
of  beautiful  colors,  and  had  their  own  arts,  such  as  the 
glazing  and  painting  of  potteries,  the  making  of  marvel- 
ous garments  of  bright  birds’  feathers,  and  of  objects 
in  gold  and  silver,  of  the  finest  workmanship.  In  the 
museum  one  can  see  beautiful  old  maps  of  Mexico  City 
when  she  was  Anahuac,  the  glory  of  the  Aztecs,  painted 
on  cloth  made  from  the  maguey. 

Fray  Bartolome  de  las  Casas  worked  with  Fray  Gante, 
and  they  were  greatly  aided  by  the  first  viceroys.  Fray 
Motolinia  came  later,  and  his  Historia  de  los  Indios  is  the 
reference  book  of  all  succeeding  works  on  Nueva  Espagna. 
The  friars  tried  by  every  means  to  alleviate  the  miseries 
of  the  Indians,  and  hospitals,  homes  for  the  aged  and 
decrepit,  orphanages  and  asylums  of  all  kinds  were  es- 
tablished. The  generation  which  immediately  succeeded 
the  Conquest  must  have  been  a tragic  spectacle,  ex- 
hausted by  resistance  and  later  on  by  the  pitiless  work 
of  rebuilding  cities,  especially  Mexico  City,  which  was 
done  in  four  years — to  the  sound  of  the  whip.  The  vice- 
roys were  responsible  only  to  the  Conscjo  de  las  Indias, 
in  far-away  Spain,  and  their  success  came  naturally  to 
be  judged  by  the  riches  they  secured  from  this  treasure- 
house  of  the  world,  at  the  expense,  of  course,  of  the 
Indians,  though  many  of  the  viceroys  tried  honestly,  in 
conjunction  with  the  friars,  to  alleviate  the  Indian  lot. 
Seven  or  eight  volumes  of  hitherto  unpublished  works 
are  waiting  for  me  from  Don  Lris  Garcia  Pimentel,  to  one 
of  whose  ancestors,  Conde  de  Lcnavente,  Motolinia  ded- 
icated his  Historia  de  los  Indios.  I have  simply  steeped 
myself  in  Mexicana — from  the  letters  of  Cortes,  the  re- 

161 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


citals  of  Bernal  Diaz,  who  came  over  with  him,  down  to 
Aleman  and  Madame  Calderon  de  la  Barca. 

Well,  it  is  getting  late  and  I must  stop,  but  the  his- 
tory of  Mexico  is  without  exception  the  most  fascinating, 
the  most  romantic,  and  the  most  improbable  in  the  world ; 
and  the  seed  of  Spanish  civilization  implanted  in  this 
marvelous  land  has  produced  a florescence  so  magnetic, 
so  magical,  that  the  dullest  feel  its  charm.  All  that  has 
been  done  for  Mexico  the  Spaniards  did,  despite  their 
cruelties,  their  greeds,  and  their  passions.  We,  of  the 
north,  have  used  it  only  as  a quarry,  leaving  no  monu- 
ments to  God  nor  testaments  to  man  in  place  of  the 
treasure  that  we  have  piled  on  departing  ship  or  train. 
Now  we  seem  to  be  handing  back  to  Indians  very 
like  those  the  Spaniards  found,  the  fruits  of  a great  civili- 
zation, for  them  to  trample  in  the  dust.  Let  us  not  call 
it  human  service. 

January  24th. 

Von  Hintze  came  in  for  a while  this  morning.  Like 
all  the  foreign  representatives,  he  is  weary  of  his  work 
here;  so  many  ennuis,  so  much  waiting  for  what  they  all 
believe  alone  can  be  the  outcome  now — American  su- 
premacy in  some  form. 

Shots  were  heard  in  town  last  night.  Dr.  Ryan, 
who  is  making  his  home  with  us,  thought  it  might  be  the 
long-threatened  cuartelazo  (barracks’  revolution),  and 
went  out  to  see,  but  it  turned  out  to  be  only  a little  pri- 
vate shooting.  The  Burnsides  have  gone  to  live  at 
Vera  Cruz. 

January  26th. 

Only  a word  before  beginning  a busy  day.  I must  go 
out  to  Chapultepec  to  see  that  the  luncheon  of  twelve, 
for  Hanihara  and  Cambiaggio,  is  all  right.  The  town  is 
filling  with  Japanese  officers  from  the  Idzuma,  lying  at 
Manzanillo.  There  will  be  a veritable  demonstration  for 

162 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


them,  indicating  very  completely  the  anti-American 
feeling.  There  is  an  enormous  official  program  for  every 
hour  until  Friday  night,  when  they  return  to  their  ship. 


Evening. 

My  luncheon  for  Hanihara  went  off  very  pleasantly, 
at  Chapultepec.  That  restaurant  is  the  knife  with  which 
I 'have  cut  the  gordion  knot  of  entertaining.  The  new 
Italian  minister  was  there,  the  Norwegians,  Mr.  E.  N. 
Brown,  president  of  the  National  Railways,  Parra,  from 
the  Foreign  Office,  and  others.  We  reached  home  at 
four  o’clock,  and  I drove  immediately  to  the  Garcia 
Pimentels,  where  Don  Luis  was  waiting  to  show  me  some 
of  the  special  treasures  in  his  library.  Up-stairs,  the 
handsome  daughters  and  their  equally  handsome  friends, 
married  and  single,  were  sewing  for  the  Red  Cross.  We 
meet  there  every  Tuesday.  Each  daughter  had  a beauti- 
fully embroidered  rebozo  thrown  over  her  smart  Paris 
gown  a la  Mexicana — heirlooms  of  the  family. 

The  house  is  one  of  the  noble,  old-style  Mexican 
edifices,  with  a large  patio,  and  a fine  stairway  leading 
up  to  the  corridor  that  winds  around  its  four  palm-  and 
flower-banked  sides.  Large,  handsome  rooms,  with  pic- 
tures, rare  engravings,  priceless  porcelains,  and  old  bro- 
cades, open  from  the  corridor.  I merely  put  my  head  in 
at  the  door  of  the  big  drawring-room  where  they  were 
working,  as  Don  Luis  was  waiting  for  me  in  his  library 
down-stairs.  I spent  a couple  of  delightful  hours  with 
him,  among  his  treasures,  so  lovingly  guarded  through 
generations.  Oh,  those  fascinating  title-pages  in  reds 
and  blacks,  that  thick,  rich-feeling  hand-woven  paper, 
that  changeless  ink,  fit  to  perpetuate  those  romantic  his- 
tories and  the  superhuman  achievement  of  the  men  of 
God ! I could  scarcely  put  down  the  beautifully  written 
letter  of  Cortes  to  Charles  V.,  wherein  he  tells  of  the 

163 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


Indians  as  he  found  them.  They  so  closely  resemble  the 
Indians  as  I have  found  them. 

Many  of  Don  Luis’s  most  valuable  books  and  manu- 
scripts were  found  in  Spain,  and  his  library  of  Mexicana 
embraces  everything  obtainable  down  to  our  own  time.1 
His  wife  is  a charming  woman,  very  grande  dame,  culti- 
vated, and  handsome.  She  and  her  daughters  are  always 
busy  with  countless  works  of  charity.  Just  now  they  are 
busy  making  up  little  bundles  of  layettes  for  the  mater- 
nity home.  It  does  make  one’s  fingers  nimble  to  see 
Indian  women  obliged  to  wrap  their  babies  in  news- 
papers ! 

I had  just  time  to  get  home  and  dress  for  dinner  at  the 
British  Legation,  but  we  came  away  at  half  past  nine, 
leaving  the  rest  of  the  party  playing  bridge.  I had  on 
again  the  gray-and-silver  Worth  dress,  but  I feel  sad 
without  my  black  things. 

Evening,  January  27th. 

This  afternoon  I went  with  de  Soto  to  see  Mme. 
Lefaivre  at  the  Museo  Nacional,  where  she  is  copying  an 
old  Spanish  screen.  It  is  always  a pleasure  to  go  through 
the  lovely,  sun-baked  patio,  filled  with  gods  and  altars 


1 This  noble  house  has  since  passed  into  alien  hands,  and  the  great 
library  is  scattered.  Sefiora  Garcia  Pimentel  was,  fortunately,  able  to 
send  a few  of  the  most  valuable  manuscripts  to  England — the  Cortes  let- 
ters, the  famous  Motolinfa  manuscript,  dedicated  to  the  Conde  dc  Ben- 
avente,  a first  edition  of  Cervantes,  the  “Dialogos”  of  Salazar,  and  a vol- 
ume or  two  of  Padre  de  la  Vera  Cruz  and  Padre  Sahagun.  She  and 
her  unmarried  daughter  took  these  away,  concealed  under  shawls,  when 
they  were  obliged  to  leave  the  house.  There  had  been  a sudden  loud 
knocking  at  the  door  in  the  dead  of  night,  followed  by  the  entry  of  Carran- 
zista  officials.  Madame  Garcia  Pimentel  and  her  beautiful  daughter  were 
alone  in  the  house  at  the  time;  the  father  and  sons,  in  danger  of  their 
lives,  had  been  secretly  got  to  Vera  Cruz,  some  time  before. 

The  far-famed  library  of  Casasus  has  also  been  scattered,  its  treasures 
destroyed.  Sometimes  a priceless  volume  has  been  bought  for  a few 
cents  from  a street  vender,  by  some  one  on  the  lookout,  but  mostly 
these  treasures  have  forever  disappeared. — E.O’S. 

164 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


of  a lost  race.  Many  of  them,  found  in  the  Zoealo,  have 
made  but  a short  journey  to  their  resting-place.  De  Soto 
is  always  an  agreeable  companion  for  any  little  excur- 
sion into  the  past — though  it  isn’t  the  past  we  are  dream- 
ing about,  these  days.  And  as  for  his  looks,  put  a lace 
ruff  and  a velvet  doublet  on  him  and  he  would  be  a 
“Velasquez”  of  the  best  epoch. 

Mme.  Lefaivre,  enveloped  in  an  apron,  was  sitting  on 
a little  step-ladder  before  the  largest  screen  I have  ever 
seen,  its  eight  mammoth  leaves  representing  various 
amorous  scenes,  lovers,  balconies,  guitars,  etc. — all  most 
decorative  and  truly  ambassadorial.  I told  her  that 
nothing  but  the  Farnese  Palace  would  be  big  enough 
for  it,  and  the  light  of  dreams — the  kind  of  dreams  we 
all  dream — appeared  in  her  eyes.  The  big  sala  was  get- 
ting a bit  dim,  so  she  left  her  work  and  we  started  for  a 
turn  through  the  museum.  When  we  found  ourselves 
talking  of  Huerta  by  the  “Morning  Star,”  a mysterious, 
hard-faced,  green  god  (his  little  name  is  Tlahuizcalpan- 
tecuhtli),  I thought  we  might  as  well  take  a turn  in  the 
motor;  so  we  went  up  to  Chapul tepee  and  continued  the 
discourse  under  the  cypresses,  which  are  growing,  though 
slowly,  with  the  living  events  that  alone  really  interest 
one.  The  past  is  for  those  with  peace  and  leisure. 


Evening. 

A quiet  day,  but  we  are  distressed  beyond  words  at  the 
renewed  reports  of  a lifting  of  the  embargo  on  arms  and 
ammunition  for  the  rebels.  I feel  as  if  I couldn’t  stand 
it,  and  N.  even  felt  that  he  ought  to  resign  if  it  hap- 
pens. The  ship  of  state  is  going  so  inevitably  on  the 
rocks.  He  will  make  some  sort  of  protest  to  Wash- 
ington against  the  advisability  of  this  move.  Villa’s 
cry  is  “On  to  Mexico,”  and  he  may  get  there,  or  rather, 
here — if  we  decide  to  carry  him. 

12  165 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


It  appears  that  he  is  becoming  daily  more  intoxicated 
by  the  favors  of  the  United  States.  No  one  is  more  sur- 
prised than  he  at  his  success  with  the  powers  that  be, 
and  as  for  the  vogue  he  has  with  the  confidential 
agents,  they  tell  me  his  face  is  one  broad  grin  whenever 
their  names  are  mentioned.  However,  this  doesn’t  mean 
he  is  going  to  try  to  please  them.  Just  now  he  wants 
Huerta’s  head,  but  that  foxy  old  head  can  have  asylum 
here.  Shouts  and  shots  were  heard  an  hour  or  so  ago, 
but  probably  only  from  some  Zapatistas  near  town. 


XIII 


Gamboa — Ffites  for  the  Japanese  officers — The  Pius  Fund — The  Toluca 
road — Brown,  of  the  National  Railways — President  Wilson  raises  the 
embargo  on  arms  and  ammunition — Hunting  for  Zapatistas. 

January  29th. 

YESTERDAY  the  handsome  Mexican  set  came  for 
bridge,  and  in  the  evening  we  went  to  dine  at  Senor 
Pardo’s  house.  He  is  the  clever  attorney  for  the  “Mexi- 
can” railways.  Federico  Gamboa  and  his  wife  were 
there.  Gamboa  is  most  amusing,  with  one  of  those 
minds  that  answer  to  the  point  in  conversation,  what  the 
French  call  le  don  dc  la  rtplique.  He  was  Minister  for 
Foreign  Affairs  last  summer,  and  resigned  to  run  for 
President,  as  choice  of  the  Clerical  party.  Huerta  said, 
quite  frankly,  of  him  to  N.  a few  days  ago,  “I  told  him  I 
liked  him  and  wished  him  well,  but  if  he  had  been  elect- 
ed President  I should  have  had  him  shot.” 

Gamboa’s  answer  to  Mr.  L.  last  August,  though  not 
satisfactory  to  us  when  laid  by  Mr.  Wilson  before  Con- 
gress, remains  a dignified,  clever,  and  unimpeachable  ex- 
post of  the  Mexican  situation  from  their  point  of  view, 
which  is  that  the  United  States,  by  every  international 
law,  is  unwarranted  in  interfering  in  their  interior  affairs, 
as  these,  however  unfortunate,  are  those  of  a sovereign 
state.  They  never  got  over  the  fact  that  the  communi- 
cations Mr.  Lind  brought  with  him  were  tactfully  ad- 
dressed to  no  one  in  particular,  and  referred  to  the 
government  as  “the  persons  who  at  the  present  time 
have  authority  or  exercise  influence  in  Mexico.”  They 

167 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


consider  that  if  they  even  once  allowed  such  counsel  from 
the  United  States  they  would  compromise  indefinitely 
their  destinies  as  a sovereign  state. 

As  for  the  phrase  “the  United  States  will  not  hesitate 
to  consummate  matters,  especially  in  times  of  domestic 
trouble,  in  the  way  that  they,  the  United  States,  con- 
sider best  for  Mexico” — it  is  graven  on  the  mind  of 
every  Mexican  who  can  read  and  write.  Concerning  our 
professions  of  friendship,  which  left  them  decidedly  cold, 
Gamboa  neatly  said  that  never  could  there  be  a more 
propitious  time  for  displaying  it,  that  wre  had  “only 
to  watch  that  no  material  or  military  assistance  of  any 
kind  be  given  to  the  rebels  who  find  refuge,  conspire,  and 
provide  themselves  with  arms  and  food  on  the  other  side 
of  the  border.”  He  further  quietly  states  that  he  is 
greatly  surprised  that  Mr.  Lind’s  mission  should  be 
termed  a “mission  of  peace,”  as,  fortunately,  neither 
then  nor  to-day  had  there  existed  any  state  of  war 
between  Mexico  and  the  United  States.  The  whole 
document  is  the  tragic  and  bootless  appeal  of  a weak 
nation  to  a strong. 

Gamboa  has  had  numerous  diplomatic  posts.  He  was 
minister  to  Brussels  and  to  The  Hague,  and  special  am- 
bassador to  Spain  to  thank  the  King  for  participation 
in  the  Centenary  of  1910.  . . . 

After  the  Pardo  dinner,  two  bright-eyed,  clear-voiced 
Mexican  girls,  one  of  them  Pardo’s  daughter,  sang  Mexi- 
can songs  with  the  true  beat  and  lilt  to  them.  Hanihara 
was  also  there,  listening  to  the  music  in  the  usual  de- 
tached, Oriental  manner.  The  Japanese  officers  are  be- 
ing tremendously  feted,  fed  by  each  and  every  depart- 
ment of  the  government,  till  I should  think  their 
abstemious  “little  Marys”  would  rebel. 

After  dinner  we  walked  home,  a short  distance,  in  the 
mild  night,  under  a strangely  low  and  starry  sky.  It 

168 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


seemed  to  me  that  by  reaching  out  I could  have  had  a 
planet  for  my  own.  The  streets  were  deserted,  save  for 
an  occasional  Mexican,  hurrying  home,  with  his  scarf 
across  his  mouth.  There  is  a tradition  here  about  not 
inhaling  the  night  air.  Here  and  there  a guardia  shiv- 
ered in  the  shadows,  as  he  watched  his  lantern,  which 
he  always  places  in  the  middle  of  the  four  crossings. 
One  can  walk  with  jewels  gleaming,  and  without  fear, 
under  the  Dictator. 

Dr.  Ryan  left  last  night  for  Washington.  I don’t  like 
to  interfere  with  any  one’s  premier  mouvement,  but  I 
know  it  for  an  expensive,  bootless  trip.  No  one  will  care 
what  he  thinks  about  the  certain  consequences  of  the 
raising  of  the  embargo. 

The  rebels  have  just  destroyed  twenty-two  huge  tanks 
of  oil  near  Tampico,  destined  for  the  running  of  the  rail- 
road between  San  Luis  Potosi  and  the  coast.  I think 
I told  you  Mr.  Brown  said  that  the  gross  receipts  had 
never  been  so  big  on  his  lines  as  last  month,  in  spite  of 
the  danger  in  traveling,  but  that  they  could  not  keep 
pace  with  the  immense  damage  going  on  all  the  time. 
Mr.  Brown  is  the  self-made  man  of  story.  He  began  at 
the  foot  of  the  ladder  and  is  now  the  president  of  the 
“National  Railways”;  quiet,  poised,  shrewd,  and  agree- 
able. Mexico  owes  him  rquch. 

Evening. 

The  Mexican  papers  come  out  with  the  statement  that 
President  Wilson  can’t  raise  the  embargo  on  arms  and 
ammunition  without  the  consent  of  Congress,  which,  if 
true,  removes  it  as  an  immediate  calamity. 

This  morning  they  rang  up  from  the  American  grocery 
to  say  that  the  stores  ordered  yesterday  had  not  arrived, 
as  the  man  who  was  delivering  them  was  taken  by  the 
press-gang,  with  all  the  provisions.  A nice  way  to  pop- 
ularize a government! 

169 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


Nelson  has  been  requested  by  the  powers  that  be 
to  use  his  influence  about  the  release  of  a certain  Ameri- 
can, the  suggestion  being  added  that  he  should  not  be  too 
cordial  with  Huerta  in  public,  as  the  United  States  was  on 
official,  not  friendly  terms  with  Mexico.  The  old  man 
would  shut  up  like  a clam  and  never  raise  a finger  for  N., 
or  any  American,  or  any  American  interests,  if  N.  did 
not  treat  him  with  both  public  and  private  courtesy. 
In  these  difficult  days  the  position  here  is  almost  en- 
tirely a personal  equation.  N.  has  danced  the  tight-rope, 
up  to  now,  to  the  satisfaction  of  almost  everybody, 
in  spite  of  the  inevitable  jealousies  and  enmities.  It  is 
entirely  due  to  N.’s  personal  efforts  that  the  Pius  Fund 
of  $43,000,  has  just  been  paid;  due  to  him  that  many 
prisoners  have  been  released,  and  that  many  material 
ends  have  been  gained  for  the  United  States. 

I think  history  will  testify  that  Huerta  showed  much 
tact  in  dealing  with  us.  His  latest  remark  is,  “If  our 
great  and  important  neighbor  to  the  north  chooses  to 
withhold  her  friendship,  we  can  but  deplore  it — and  try 
to  perform  our  task  without  her.” 

Elim  asked  me,  yesterday,  “Where  is  our  Uncle  Sam, 
that  everybody  talks  about?”  He  thought  he  was  on 
the  track  of  a new  relative. 

Later. 

A military  revolt  is  brewing  here — Felicista.  N.  got 
wind  of  it.  If  it  comes,  they  must  give  us  Huerta,  and 
have  so  promised.  We  have  had  comparative,  very  com- 
parative, quiet  for  a few  weeks,  and  now  things  are 
seething  again. 

There  is  a room  here  always  ready,  which  we  call 
nacht  asyl,  and  various  uneasy  heads  have  rested  there  in 
the  famous  “bed  of  the  murderess.”  Yesterday  I bought 
a lot  of  lovely  dull  blue-and-white  serapes  for  the 
floor  and  couch. 


170 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


On  returning  from  bridge  at  Madame  Lefaivre’s,  where 
I left  de  Soto  losing  with  more  than  his  usual  melancholy 
distinction,  I found  the  Japanese  minister  with  the  cap- 
tain of  the  Idzuma,  in  full  regimentals,  come  to  call — 
but  N.  was  out.  The  captain  said  he  wanted  to  express 
especially  and  officially  to  N.  his  appreciation  of  all  the 
courtesies  he  had  received  from  Admiral  Cowles,  and  the 
other  officers  of  our  ships  at  Manzanillo.  He  spoke 
French  and  English  only  fairly  well,  as  they  do.  I 
was  very  cordial,  of  course,  and  said  that  in  these 
difficult  moments  all  must  be  friends,  must  stand  by 
one  another,  and  show  mutual  understanding  of  dif- 
ficulties. As  I looked  at  him  I thought,  for  some  reason, 
of  the  horrors  suffered  and  the  deeds  of  valor  per- 
formed by  his  race  in  the  Russo-Japanese  War,  with- 
out question  or  thought  of  individuals.  He  espied 
Iswolsky’s  photograph  and  Adatchi  showed  him  Demi- 
doff’s  picture,  saying  that  Elim  was  his  namesake. 
They  never  forget  anything. 

The  officers  had  all  been  out  to  the  celebrated  pyra- 
mid of  San  Juan  Teotihuacan  to-day,  with  the  Minister 
of  Public  Instruction.  It  is  a fatiguing  trip,  but  an  ex- 
cursion always  arranged  for  strangers  of  distinction.  (I 
made  it  with  Madero,  mounting  those  last  great  steps, 
exhausted  and  dripping,  on  his  arm.)  They,  the  Japa- 
nese, were  going  to  the  Jockey  Club,  where  Moheno,  the 
Minister  for  Foreign  Affairs,  is  to  give  them  a dinner. 
The  government  is  so  in  debt  to  the  various  restaurants 
here  that  they  couldn’t  get  credit  for  the  dinner  at  Sil- 
vain’s,  as  first  planned. 

I met  Lady  Carden  at  bridge  this  afternoon.  She 
feels  badly  at  the  way  things  have  developed  for  her 
husband.  He  has  been  called  to  London  “ to  report  ” ; a 
la  Henry  Lane  Wilson  to  Washington,  I suppose. 
Hohler,  who  was  charge  when  we  first  came  to  Mexico, 

171 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


is  already  en  route  from  England  to  take  over  the  Lega- 
tion during  Sir  Lionel’s  absence — but  I suppose  Sir  L. 
will  never  return.  I told  Lady  Carden  to  give  Sir  Lionel 
my  best  regards,  and  added  that  it  wasn’t,  by  any 
means,  all  beer  and  skittles  at  the  Embassy. 

Sir  L.  shouldn’t  have  tried,  however,  to  “buck”  the 
United  States.  All  the  representatives  have  become  a 
bit  more  cautious  as  to  how  they  approach  “the  policy,” 
since  the  unpleasant  newspaper  notoriety  Sir  Lionel  and 
Paul  May  received.  Lady  Carden  is  not  going,  I am 
glad  to  say,  and  we  are  all  making  plans  to  console  her 
for  Sir  L.’s  absence. 

January  31st. 

Your  cable  “Love”  received  yesterday.  I sent  a 
cable,  “Bene,”  in  answer.  I have  been  thinking  all  day 
of  those  hours,  many  years  ago,  when  my  precious 
mother  was  lying  with  me,  her  first-born,  in  her  arms. 

N.  is  in  receipt  of  a proclamation  from  revolutionary 
agents  in  Mexico  City.  The  part  referring  to  foreigners 
states  that  any  protection  given  by  them  to  Huerta  or 
to  his  intimates  will  result  in  their  immediate  execu- 
tion, and  that  no  flag  will  be  respected  in  such  cases.  It 
is  one  of  those  nice,  little,  confidence-inspiring  documents 
which  induce  one  to  ponder  on  the  Mexican  situation, 
not  as  it  might  be  or  ought  to  be,  but  as  it  is.  Its  cap- 
tion, “La  revolucidn  es  revoluci6n,”  is  completely  ex- 
pressive. 

February  1st.  Afternoon. 

A few  lines  while  waiting  for  tea  and  callers.  This 
morning  we  made  a wonderful  run  out  the  Toluca  road 
with  Seeger  and  Mr.  and  Madame  Graux,  our  Belgian 
friends,  Chemins  de  fer  secondaires,  as  we  call  them. 
After  Tacubaya  the  road  rises  high  above  the  city,  and 
for  miles  we  motored  along  the  heights,  through  stretches 
of  dazzling  white  tepetate  and  pink  tezontlc,  the  building- 

172 


THE  GUARD  THAT  STOPPED  US 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


stones  of  the  city  from  immemorial  days.  The  road  was 
fairly  alive  with  Indians  bringing  in  their  wares,  this 
Sunday  morning.  They  came  from  Toluca,  seventy  kilo- 
meters distant,  moving  tirelessly  over  their  roads  with 
the  quick,  short  Aztec  trot,  and  bearing  such  loads  of 
pottery,  baskets,  and  wood,  that  nothing  can  be  seen 
of  them  but  their  feet.  This  is  also  a Zapatista  country, 
and  we  had  provided  ourselves  with  three  pistols. 
High  in  the  hills  could  be  seen  the  smoke  of  camp-fires, 
Zapatistas  or  charcoal-burners.  It  was  on  this  road  that 
the  son  of  the  Minister  of  War,  Blanquet,  was  held  up 
about  three  weeks  ago.  His  party  was  stripped  and  its 
members  sent  home  as  they  were  born,  even  that  last 
possible  covering,  the  floor-rug  of  the  motor,  being  re- 
moved. 

However,  beyond  being  stopped  at  intervals  by  gen- 
darmes, who  tried,  unsuccessfully,  to  make  us  leave  our 
pistols  at  the  jefetura  of  their  little  village,  we  were  not 
interfered  with.  Our  cry  of  Embajada  Americana,  though 
not  over-popular  now,  had  not  lost  all  its  potency.  In 
spite  of  the  dazzling  sun  it  is  very  cold  on  the  heights, 
and  in  the  little  village  where  we  stopped  to  “water” 
our  car  a coughing,  sneezing,  sniffling  crowd  of  half- 
naked,  shivering  Indians  gathered  around  us,  evidently 
suffering  from  one  of  those  bronchial  epidemics  so  prev- 
alent in  these  thin,  high  atmospheres.  I fear  that  our 
coppers,  though  acceptable,  were  not  therapeutic,  as, 
doubtless,  they  all  rounded  up  at  the  nearest  pulqueria 
after  our  departure.  We  could  not  decide  to  turn  lunch- 
ward,  but  kept  on  and  on,  until  we  had  dipped  into  the 
Toluca  Valley  as  far  as  the  statue  of  Hidalgo,  commem- 
orating the  spot  where  he  met  the  viceregal  forces  in 
1821.  It  always  seems  to  me  a sad  spot,  for  when  the 
Spaniards  fell,  with  the  exception  of  Diaz’s  thirty  years, 
the  last  stable  government  of  Mexico  also  fell. 

173 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


At  the  base  of  the  statue  three  Indian  women  were 
sitting — enredadas.  Each  had  a baby  slung  over  her 
back  and  a burden  by  her  side,  giving  the  scene  the 
mysterious,  changeless,  lonely  Indian  note.  In  Mexico, 
nothing  is  ever  missing  from  any  picture  to  make  it  beau- 
tiful and  peculiarly  itself. 

A very  gratifying  letter  came  to-day  from  Mr.  John 
Bassett  Moore,  counselor  of  the  State  Department. 
There  are  so  many  difficulties,  so  many  enmities  ready 
to  lift  their  poisoned  heads,  so  many  delicate  transac- 
tions, so  much  hanging  in  the  balance,  that  it  is  gratifying 
to  have,  sometimes,  an  appreciative  word  from  head- 
quarters. Also  a very  nice  letter  came  from  General 
Crozier.  I am  so  glad  of  that  Mexican  visit  of  his  two 
years  ago.  He  will  understand  just  what  the  situation 
is — and  many  things  besides. 

Nelson  spent  all  Saturday  morning  getting  the  1914 
instalment  of  the  Pius  Fund,  the  twelfth  payment  since 
the  Hague  decision  in  1902.  Diaz  intended  to  pay  off 
the  principal,  but  now,  of  course,  the  country  is  in  no 
condition  to  do  so.  We  went  down  to  Hacienda 
(Treasury  Department).  I sat  in  the  auto  in  the  sun, 
in  the  historic  Zocalo,  from  immemorial  days  the  focus  of 
Mexican  events.  The  officials  had  only  $37,000  of  the 
$43,000,  but  told  N.  to  return  at  half  past  twelve, 
and  they  would  have  the  other  six  for  him.  I couldn’t 
help  wondering  where  they  got  it.  Finally  it  was  all 
safely  deposited  in  the  bank.  We  then  picked  up  the 
Graux  at  the  Hotel  Sanz  and  motored  out  for  luncheon 
and  golf  at  the  Country  Club. 

February  1st,  10.30  p.m. 

To-night  has  come  the  long-feared  cable  from  Wash- 
ington stating  that  the  President  intends  to  raise  the  em- 
bargo on  arms  and  ammunition.  The  note  was  for 
Nelson’s  special  information,  not  for  delivery  to  the 

174 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


Foreign  Office  yet,  but  the  hour  will  come  when  he  will 
have  to  gird  himself  to  do  the  deed.  It  has  been  sent 
to  every  chancery  in  Europe,  where  it  will  raise  a storm, 
to  blow  hard  or  not,  according  to  the  amount  of  material 
investments  in  Mexico.  We  scarcely  know  what  to 
think;  we  are  dazed  and  aghast.  I am  glad  that  a few 
hours,  at  least,  must  elapse  before  the  facts  will  get  out. 
I shall  hardly  dare  to  venture  forth  unveiled.  Courteous 
as  the  Mexicans  have  been  to  Nelson  and  myself,  some 
day,  in  face  of  the  terrible  catastrophes  we  have  brought 
upon  them,  their  patience  must  fail.  This  act  will  not 
establish  the  rebels  in  Mexico  City  or  anywhere  else, 
but  will  indefinitely  prolong  this  terrible  civil  war  and 
swell  the  tide  of  the  blood  of  men  and  women,  “and  the 
children — oh,  my  brothers.” 

I think  Wilhelmstrasse,  Downing  Street,  Quai  d’Orsay, 
Ballplatz,  and  all  the  other  MinisUres  will  pick  many  a 
flaw  in  the  President’s  document;  but  what  can  they  do 
except  anathematize  us  behind  our  backs  ? 

February  2d. 

My  first  thought,  on  awaking  this  morning,  was  of  the 
irremediable  catastrophe  threatening  this  beautiful  land. 
Nelson  says  he  thinks  Huerta  will  disregard  it,  as  he  has 
disregarded  all  other  moves  of  Mr.  Wilson;  but  it  can 
be  nothing  but  a further  source  of  terrible  embarrass- 
ment. 

February  3d,  11  a.m. 

The  second  telegram  has  just  come,  saying  that  the 
President  intends,  within  a few  hours,  to  raise  the  em- 
bargo, and  that  N.  is  to  inform  all  Americans  and 
foreigners.  I keep  repeating  to  myself:  “God!  God! 
God!”  A generation  of  rich  and  poor  alike  will  be  at  the 
mercy  of  the  hordes  that  will  have  new  strength  and 
means  to  fight,  and  eat,  and  pillage,  and  rape  their  way 
through  the  country.  There  will  be  a stampede  of 

*75 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


people  leaving  town  to-night  and  to-morrow,  but  those 
in  the  interior,  what  of  them?  There  is  sure  to  be  vio- 
lent anti-American  demonstration,  especially  in  out-of- 
the-way  places. 

1230. 

The  news  previously  leaked  out  from  Vera  Cruz  last 
night.  Nothing  gets  out  from  the  Embassy,  as  our  staff 
all  happen  to  know  how  to  keep  their  counsel.  It  is  what 
Mr.  Lind  has  wanted  for  months,  and  I suppose  the 
news  was  too  satisfactory  to  keep.  You  will  read  it 
in  to-morrow’s  Paris  Herald  and  the  Journal  de  Gen&ve. 
Don’t  worry  about  us.  We  will  have  first-class  safe- 
guard if  Huerta  declares  war.  He  may  not.  It  is 
his  policy,  and  a strong  one  it  has  been,  to  ignore 
Washington’s  proclamations.  On  the  other  hand,  ,he 
will  have  no  intention  of  being  caught  by  Villa,  like 
a rat  in  a hole;  and  war  with  us  may  seem  to  him  a 
glorious  solution  of  his  problems.  Villa  and  Car- 
ranza will  not  arrive  in  the  city  together.  No  street  is 
broad  enough  to  permit  the  double  entry  of  their  con- 
trary passions,  violence,  and  greed. 

It  is  “to  laugh”  when  Villa  is  thanked  publicly  and 
officially  for  his  kind  promises  in  regard  to  life  and  prop- 
erty in  the  north. 

February  3d.  Evening. 

A busy  day — as  you  can  well  imagine.  N.  had  to 
inform  the  various  legations.  I went  down-town  with 
him  for  luncheon,  a thing  I never  do.  We  met  the  Span- 
ish minister  driving  up  the  Pasco  in  his  victoria — a 
pathetic  figure.  He  has  had  so  much  worry  and  heart- 
break over  the  situation  and  has  been  so  helpless  in  the 
face  of  the  disasters  which  have  befallen  his  nationals 
that  he  is  beyond  surprise.  Upon  hearing  the  news 
he  merely  made  a tired  gesture  of  acquiescence.  To  him 
the  raising  of  the  embargo  was,  doubtless,  only  one  more 

176 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


inexplicable  thing.  Von  Hintze  was  out,  and  we  next 
stopped  at  the  French  Legation,  just  opposite  the  Ger- 
man. Ayguesparsse,  the  secretary,  possessed  of  one  of 
the  most  elegant  silhouettes  in  the  world,  was  more  than 
polite,  but  quite  impassive,  as  he  came  out  with  Nelson 
to  speak  a word  to  me.  He  is  married  to  a handsome 
young  Mexican — the  sister  of  Rincon  Gaillardo,  Mar- 
ques de  Guadalupe — whose  time,  strength,  money,  and 
life,  if  need  be,  are  at  the  disposition  of  his  country. 

When  we  got  to  the  restaurant  in  Plateros,  the  most 
public  and  alarm-allaying  spot  we  could  think  of,  the 
newspaper  men  assailed  N.  with  questions.  The  “story” 
that  they  are  after  is  what  the  relations  of  Huerta 
would  be  to  N.  and  the  Embassy,  and  they  announce 
that  they  were  not  going  to  let  the  charge  out  of  their 
sight. 

After  lunch,  at  which  Mr.  S.  joined  us,  we  went  to  the 
British  Legation.  N.  gave  Sir  L.  the  news,  while  I 
walked  in  the  garden  with  Lady  C.,  both  of  us  wilted, 
with  nerves  on  edge.  I came  home,  rested  for  a few  min- 
utes, and  then  dressed,  and  went  out  to  fulfil  my  after- 
noon program  of  calls,  turning  up  late  for  bridge  at 
Madame  Simon’s.  She  asked  me  squarely,  though  in 
the  politest  of  French,  “What  is  your  government 
doing?”  I saw  many  people  during  the  afternoon, 
but,  apart  from  her  greeting,  there  was  no  word  of 
politics.  I think  the  matter  is  too  distasteful  to  the 
public  to  be  discussed  with  any  one  like  myself,  where 
care  in  the  expression  of  feeling  is  necessary. 

I drove  home  with  Lady  C.,  who  was  quietly  aghast  at 
the  situation,  just  in  time  to  get  into  a tea-gown  and 
down-stairs  for  dinner.  In  the  salon  Seeger  and  the 
Graux  (who  leave  to-morrow  for  Vera  Cruz  and  New 
York)  were  waiting.  N.  telephoned  that  he  was  at  the 
Palace,  just  going  in  to  see  Heurta.  You  can  imagine  that 

177 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


we  had  a lively  dinner  of  surmises.  He  returned  barely 
in  time  to  say  good-by  to  the  Graux,  and  after  they  left 
we  sat  up  late  to  talk  over  the  appalling  situation. 

Sir  Lionel  was  with  the  President  when  N.  got  there. 
From  the  violent  sounds  coming  through  the  half- 
opened  door,  N.  thought  that  the  old  man  was  at  last 
losing  patience  and  control,  and  prepared  himself  for  the 
worst.  However,  when  N.  finally  went  in  Huerta  was 
perfectly  calm  and  had  never  been  more  friendly.  He 
never  mentioned  President  Wilson’s  name,  and  concern- 
ing the  raising  of  the  embargo  quietly  remarked  that  it 
would  not  change  matters  much,  but  would  merely  give 
a recognized  name  to  the  smuggling  over  the  border  that 
had  been  going  on  for  three  years.  He  kept  repeating 
that  the  future  would  justify  him;  that  he  had  had 
nothing  to  do  with  the  killing  of  Madero ; that  the  atti- 
tude of  the  administration  toward  him  was  simply  “a 
persecution.”  N.  said  he  never  flinched.  He  terminated 
the  interview  by  saying  that  he  greatly  appreciated 
N.’s  public  as  well  as  private  courtesies,  and  that 
he  was  “very  necessary  to  the  situation,”  whereupon 
he  ordered  copitas,  and  the  embargo  question  was  dis- 
missed. 

Apropos  of  copitas,  while  we  were  talking  N.  was 
rung  up  to  hear  that  an  English  woman  reporter  and 
Wallace,  the  cine  man,  sent  us  from  the  State  Depart- 
ment, had  been  put  in  prison  for  trying  to  take  a photo- 
graph of  Huerta  at  the  Cafe  Colon,  while  he  was  taking 
his  copita.  They  were  both  released  at  a late,  or  rather 
an  early  hour,  and  I think  they  richly  deserved  their 
experience.  Huerta’s  reputation  for  drinking  is  very 
much  exaggerated. 

The  hall,  stairway,  and  chancery  were  black  with  re- 
porters all  the  evening,  until  one  o’clock.  It  has  been  a 
long  day  of  responsibility,  excitement,  and  fatigue. 

178 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


February  4th. 

The  newspapers  have  appalling  head-lines  about  Pres- 
ident Wilson.  El  Puritano,  vrith  his  mask  off,  the 
avowed  friend  of  bandits  and  assassins,  is  about  the 
mildest  sample. 

Evening. 

Another  full  day.  I had  errands  all  the  morning.  In 
the  afternoon,  after  being  undecided  as  to  whether  I 
would  shine  by  my  absence  or  turn  the  full  light  of  my 
American  countenance  on  my  Mexican  friends,  I decided 
to  make  calls.  I found  everybody  in.  I went  first  to 
Senora  Gamboa,  where  I had  to  talk  Spanish.  Fortu- 
nately, they  have  a few  very  good  antiques  on  which  to 
hang  conversation.  Then  I went  to  see  the  Evanses. 
They  have  bought  a handsome  old  Mexican  house  which 
we  are  all  interested  in  seeing  them  modernize  without 
spoiling.  After  that  I drove  out  to  Tacubaya,  and  on 
the  way  out  the  broad  calzada  saw  the  leva  at  work. 
There  were  about  twenty  men  hedged  in  by  lines  of 
soldiers,  and  two  or  three  disconsolate-looking  women. 

Senora  Escandon’s  house  is  situated  in  the  midst  of 
one  of  the  beautiful  gardens  for  which  Tacubaya  is  cel- 
ebrated, inclosed  by  high  walls  over  which  run  a riot 
of  vines  and  flowers.  I found  her  and  her  daughter, 
Senora  Soriano,  at  home.  The  Spanish  son-in-law  is 
a mechanical  genius  and  spends  this  revolutionary  period 
peacefully  constructing  small,  perfect  models  of  wrar-ships 
and  locomotives.  I shall  take  Elim  there  when  “the 
fleet”  is  on  the  little  lake  in  the  garden.  The  Escandons 
are  people  of  immense  wealth,  agreeable  and  cultivated, 
but,  like  all  their  kind,  aloof  from  politics.  Their  perfect 
and  friendly  courtesy  made  me  more  than  a little  sad. 

Going  home  for  a moment,  I found  Clarence  Hay 
with  Nelson  at  the  gate,  and  drove  him  down-town.  I 
enjoyed  talking  English  and  hearing  it  instead  of  speak- 

179 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


ing  broken  Spanish  or  listening  to  broken  French.  We 
browsed  about  in  an  antique-shop  and  did  a little  re- 
freshing haggling.  I stopped  at  Madame  Simon’s  on  my 
way  back,  where  I found  Rincon  Gaillardo,  who  is,  among 
other  things,  chief  of  the  rurales. 

He  had  many  interesting  things  to  say  about  hunting 
for  Zapatistas,  which  seems  to  be  the  biggest  kind  of 
“big-game”  shooting.  After  descending  unexpectedly 
upon  sleeping  villages  the  Zapatistas  retreat  to  their 
mountain  fastnesses.  By  the  time  word  reaches  the 
point  where  rurales  are  stationed,  the  worst  has  been 
done.  The  next  day  innocent-looking  persons  are  beg- 
ging for  a centavo  or  working  in  the  fields.  They  were 
the  bandits  of  the  night  before!  It  needs  a Hercules  to 
clear  this  mountainous  country  of  “the  plague  of  bri- 
gandage.” A gun,  a horse,  and  full  power  are  naturally 
more  attractive  than  a plow  and  a corn-field. 

There  are  rumors  of  a student  demonstration  to- 
morrow— it  is  Constitution  Day — when  they  propose  to 
march  the  streets  crying,  “Death  to  Wilson!”  Every- 
body was  not  only  polite,  but  even  affectionate  in  their 
greetings  to  me.  Whatever  they  thought  of  yesterday’s 
raising  of  the  embargo  they  kept  .to  themselves  or  ex- 
pressed when  I was  absent.  Even  Rincon  Gaillardo, 
who  is  giving  his  all — time,  money,  brain — to  the  paci- 
fying of  the  country  under  Huerta,  maintained  his 
exquisite  calm. 


XIV 


A "neat  little  haul"  for  brigands — Tea  at  San  Angel — A picnic  and  a 
burning  village — The  lesson  of  "Two  Fools” — Austria-Hungary’s  new 
minister — Cigarettes  in  the  making — Zapata’s  message. 

February  6th. 

THERE  was  no  disturbance  of  any  kind  yesterday. 

Never  were  the  streets  more  peaceful,  nor  the  heavens 
more  calmly  beautiful.  Madame  Simon  had  a luncheon 
for  the  new  Austro-Hungarian  minister,  and  afterward  we 
all  motored  out  the  Toluca  road,  driving  on  till  from  a 
high  mountain  place  we  could  see  the  setting  sun  filling 
the  stretches  of  the  Toluca  Valley  with  translucent 
flame  colors,  mauves,  reds,  and  browns.  It  was  like 
some  new  Jerusalem  or  any  other  promised  glory. 
Every  time  we  saw  a group  on  horseback  we  wondered 
if  it  were  the  redoubtable  Zapatistas  who  make  that 
part  of  the  world  so  unquiet.  It  was  all  carefully  pa- 
trolled, however,  with  armed  men  at  intervals,  cartridge- 
belts  full,  and  guns  across  their  saddles. 

Our  party  would  have  been  a neat  little  haul  for  bri- 
gands: the  Austro-Hungarian  minister,  the  Italian  min- 
ister, Joaquin  Garcia  Pimentel,  Senor  and  Senora  Osi, 
Madame  Simon,  and  myself.  Senora  Osi  had  on  a mag- 
nificent string  of  pearls,  likewise  a huge  diamond  pin 
that  blazed  in  the  setting  sun.  I left  my  jewels  at  home, 
and  Madame  Simon  kept  hers  well  covered.  I wonder 
that  we  did  get  back  as  we  went.  It  was  marvelous,  drop- 
ping down  from  the  heights  to  the  glistening  town,  in  the 
mysterious  Mexican  half-light. 

13  181 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


I wonder  what  President  Wilson  is  going  to  do  about 
the  revolution  in  Peru?  I see  they  have  deported  Bil- 
linghurst  from  Callao,  and  Augusto  Durand,  the  revo- 
lutionary  chief,  has  assumed  the  Presidency.  There  was 
a price  on  his  head  a day  or  two  before.  It  will  take 
more  than  one  administration  to  cure  the  Latin-Ameri- 
cans  of  their  taste  for  revolutions.  Have  sent  you  a 
Cosmopolitan,  with  a story,  “Two  Fools,”  by  Frederick 
Palmer ; it  deals  with  a certain  burning  side  of  the  Mexi- 
can situation,  and  has  excited  much  comment. 


February  8th.  Evening. 

Yesterday  we  went  out  to  the  beautiful  San  Angel  Inn 
for  tea,  six  of  us  in  one  motor,  two  empty  motors  follow- 
ing. Motoring  about  this  marvelous  plateau  is  one  of 
the  joys  of  Mexican  life.  We  watched  the  sunset  over 
the  volcanoes  until  the  rose-tinted  “White  Lady,  ” Iztac- 
cihuatl,  was  only  a gigantic  form  lying  against  a purple 
sky,  covered  with  a blue-white  shroud ; then  we  raced  in 
to  dine  with  Clarence  Hay  and  the  Tozzers,  who  had  a 
box  for  a mild  circus  performance  in  the  evening. 
The  night  before  last,  so  von  Hintze  told  N.  (and  he  is 
always  thoroughly  informed),  forty  men  and  officers  in 
the  Guadalupe  Hidalgo  barracks  were  shot.  They  were 
accused,  probably  justly,  of  a plot  against  Huerta.  For 
days  there  have  been  persistent  rumors  of  a military  up- 
rising— cuartelazo,  as  they  call  it.  Perhaps  at  the  pre- 
destined hour  one  such  rising  will  succeed.  If  Huerta  is 
forced  into  bankruptcy  and  can’t  pay  his  troops,  what 
will  become  of  us,  the  foreigners?  He  stated  the  full 
truth  about  elections  here  when  he  said  that  conditions 
were  such  that  the  government  of  the  nation  must 
necessarily  be  in  the  hands  of  the  few.  A thoroughgoing 
dictatorship  is  what  he  doubtless  thinks  the  best  solu- 
tion— from  a close  acquaintance  with  his  own  people. 

182 


r~ 


Copyright  by  Underwood  & Underwood. 

“THE  WOMAN  IN  WHITE” — FROM  SAN  JUAN  HILL 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


This  morning,  after  Mass  at  nine  o’clock,  I started  with 
Seeger,  Hay,  the  Tozzers,  and  Elim  for  Texcoco.  It  was 
marvelous,  speeding  through  the  soft,  yet  brilliant,  air, 
each  turn  of  the  wrheel  bringing  us  to  historic  spots. 
Texcoco  was  the  “Athens”  of  Mexico  in  Aztec  days, 
and  the  whole  length  of  this  now  so-dusty  road  was 
done  in  canoes  and  barques.  There  is  a great  col- 
umn near  Chapingo  which  points  the  spot  Cortes  started 
from  in  his  brigantine,  in  his  last  desperate  and  success- 
ful attempt  at  the  conquest  of  the  City  of  Mexico.  It 
was  from  the  ridge  of  hills  beyond  that  the  conquerors 
first  looked  down  on  the  marvels  of  Tenochtitlan,  set 
among  its  shining  lakes  and  its  myriad  gardens. 

We  found  it  was  market-day  at  Texcoco,  and  Indian 
life  was  beating  its  full  around  the  old  plaza  with  its 
Aztec  sun-dial,  palms,  and  eucalyptus.  Here  the  In- 
dians set  up  their  innumerable  booths  with  their  pot- 
teries, baskets,  blankets,  fruits,  and  vegetables.  We 
were  most  amused  watching  a crowd  gathered  about 
a steaming  caldron.  In  it  a pig,  his  outline  still  quite 
intact,  was  converting  himself  into  soup  as  fast  as 
fire  and  water  could  assist  him.  Cortes,  in  one  of 
the  famous  letters,  gives  as  detailed  an  account  of  an 
Indian  market  as  if  he  were  a modem  traveling  agent 
sending  back  data  to  the  firm.  In  the  near-by  old 
church  his  venturesome  heart  lay  for  long  years.  Now 
only  unlettered  Indians  crowd  in  and  out  of  the  place. 
There  is  a huge  adjacent  seminary  of  the  Spanish  pe- 
riod, unused  since  the  “Laws  of  Reform.”  The  most 
visible  results  of  the  “Laws  of  Reform”  seem  to  be,  as 
far  as  I have  discovered,  huge,  dusty  waste  spaces, 
where  schools  had  once  been.  All  over  Mexico  there 
are  such. 

Texcoco  doesn’t  offer  many  inducements  to  modem 
picnickers,  so  we  motored  back  a short  distance  and 

183 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


stopped  at  the  hacienda  of  Chapingo,  formerly  belong- 
ing to  Gonsalez,  President  of  Mexico  before  Diaz’s  sec- 
ond administration.  He  was  allowed  to  leave  the 
country.  As  Dooley  remarks,  “There  is  no  such  word 
as  ‘ix-Prisidint’  in  Mexico.  They  are  known  as  ‘the  late- 
lamented,’  or  ‘the  fugitive  from  justice’;  and  the  only 
tr’uble  the  country  has  with  those  who  remain  is  to  keep 
the  grass  cut.” 

Beautiful  avenues  of  eucalyptus  adorn  the  entrance 
to  the  gaudy  clap-clappy  house,  and  the  dozens  of  peon 
dwellings  surrounding  it.  The  acLministrador  allowed  us 
to  have  our  luncheon  in  the  grounds,  and  we  sat  around 
the  dry,  flower-grown  basin  of  an  old  fountain.  Hay  re- 
cited; we  picked  bunches  of  violets  without  moving  an 
inch,  and  watched  cheerful  lizards  darting  in  and  out. 
Coming  home,  great  spiral  pillars  of  dust  reached  up, 
with  a regular  rotary  motion,  to  the  sky  over  the  lake, 
the  results  of  the  drainage  works  of  the  lake  and  valley 
of  Texcoco. 

As  we  passed  the  Pehon  and  got  into  the  straight  home 
road,  some  one  remarked,  “Nothing  doing  in  the  Zapa- 
tista line  this  time.”  A moment  afterward,  however,  vol- 
leys were  heard  in  the  direction  of  Xochimilco,  and  puffs 
of  smoke  could  be  seen.  Then  about  forty  rurales  gal- 
loped up.  The  sergeant,  a fresh-complexioned,  dull- 
witted  fellow,  stopped  us  and  asked  if  we  knew  from 
where  the  firing  came.  We  apparently  knew  more  than 
he,  little  as  it  was.  He  continued,  in  a helpless  way: 
“Those  are  Mauser  shots,  pero  no  hay  trcn,  no  hay  tele- 
jono.  Como  vamos  a hacerf”  (“but  we  have  no  train,  we 
have  no  telephone.  What  are  we  to  do?”)  When  we 
asked  him  the  name  of  the  village  ( pueblo ) where  it 
was  going  on,  he  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  answered, 
“Quien  sabe?”  Finally  we  left  the  rurales  to  their  own 
devices  and  came  upon  a group  of  women  running  for 

1&4 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


their  lives  and  virtue.  They  all  learn  to  get  out  of  the 
way  of  the  soldiers,  as  they  are  obliged  to  hear  dreadful 
groserias,  if  nothing  worse.  A pink-  or  blue-skirted  fig- 
ure being  chased  in  the  maguey-fields  is  no  uncommon 
sight. 

We  came  back  to  the  Embassy  and  had  tea,  learning 
that  a huge  fire  we  had  seen  burning  on  the  side  of  a 
not-distant  hill,  and  which  we  thought  might  be  from  a 
charcoal-burners’  camp,  was  a village  the  Zapatistas 
had  pillaged  and  set  on  fire  at  two  o’clock,  while  we  were 
peacefully  picnicking  in  “violet-crowned”  Chapingo. 

The  Tozzers  and  Clarence  Hay  leave  for  Oaxaca  and 
Mitla,  to-morrow  night,  for  a week’s  trip.  I would  have 
loved  to  go,  but  “No  traveling”  is  our  motto.  We  must 
keep  out  of  possible  troubles.  Later  Kanya  de  Kanya, 
the  new  Austro-Hungarian  minister,  came  to  call.  He 
has  been  ten  years  in  the  Foreign  Office  in  Vienna,  and  is 
glad  to  be  out  of  the  turmoil  of  Near-East  politics.  For 
him  Mexico  is  relatively  quiet.  There  are  only  about 
five  or  six  hundred  of  his  nationals  in  the  whole  country, 
as  there  has  been  little  or  nothing  here  for  them  since  the 
Maximilian  tragedy.  Kanya  is  a Hungarian.  He  will 
be  a pleasant  colleague,  and  I certainly  hope  the  Magyar 
will  show  itself.  He  is  said  to  be  very  musical. 

In  the  evening  Seeger  came  back  for  dinner;  also  Burn- 
side, who  is  up  from  Vera  Cruz  for  a day  or  so.  We  had 
a “political”  evening.  Going  back  over  things,  it  does 
seem  as  if  the  United  States,  in  conniving  at  the  elimi- 
nation of  Diaz,  three  years  ago,  had  begun  the  deadly 
work  of  disintegration  here. 

But  all  the  time  I kept  before  my  mind’s  eye  the 
enchanting  background  of  blue  hills  and  lakes  shining 
in  the  slanting  sun,  millions  of  wild  ducks  flying  across 
the  Lake  of  Chaleo,  and,  above  it,  the  smoldering  vil- 
lage, the  reverberations  of  the  Mauser  rifles  below! 

185 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


February  Qth. 

There  was  a pleasant  luncheon  at  the  Lefaivres’  for 
Kanya.  They — the  Lefaivres — are  both  worn  out  with 
their  long  Mexican  sojourn,  five  years,  and  the  heavy 
responsibilities  entailed  by  the  ever-increasing  French 
material  losses,  and  are  planning  to  go  on  leave  in 
March.  They  are  good  friends  and  I shall  miss 
them  greatly,  but  I have  learned  to  be  philosophic 
about  partings.  Life  keeps  filling  up,  like  a miraculous 
pitcher. 

The  newspapers  have  been  getting  the  details  of  the 
horrible  disaster  in  the  Cumbre  tunnel  in  Chihuahua,  a 
few  days  ago.  A bandit  chief,  Castillo,  set  fire  to  it  by 
running  into  it  a burning  lumber-train.  A passenger- 
train  came  along,  collided  with  the  debris,  and  all  that 
has  been  recovered  is  a few  charred  bones.  It  is  near 
the  frontier,  and  it  is  said  that  Villa  allowed  the  rescue- 
party  to  have  an  escort  of  American  soldiers.  There 
were  a number  of  American  women  and  children  on  the 
train;  but  it  is  a momentous  step — or  may  be — for 
American  troops  to  get  into  Mexico.  Castillo  did  the 
thing,  it  is  said,  to  revenge  himself  on  Villa.  This  latter 
is  getting  a taste  of  the  responsibilities  success  entails. 
He  has  Chihuahua,  and  Juarez,  and  a long  line  of  railway 
to  protect,  and  I am  sure  he  doesn’t  find  guerilla  war- 
fare a recommendable  pastime,  when  it  is  directed 
against  himself  and  his  ambitions. 


February  ioth. 

This  morning  we  went  over  the  magnificent  Buen  Tono 
cigarette-factories.  Pugibet,  who  sold  cigarettes  in  the 
street  forty  years  ago,  is  the  founder  and  millionaire 
owner.  The  factory  is  a model  in  all  ways,  and  a testi- 
mony to  his  brains,  energy,  and  initiative.  He  showed 
us  over  the  vast  place  himself.  In  one  of  the  rooms  he 

1 86 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


had  refrained  from  installing  machinery,  as  it  meant 
taking  work  from  hundreds  of  women. 

Oh,  the  deftness  and  skill  of  those  beautiful  Indian 
hands!  Their  motions  were  so  quick  that  one  hardly 
saw  anything  but  the  finished  article.  He  loaded  us  with 
cigarettes  and  many  souvenirs,  and  wre  drove  home 
after  a visit  to  the  big  church  he  had  built  near  by. 
On  arriving  home,  I found  the  words,  “Papa,”  “Mama,” 
“Elim,”  and  “Kuss,”  written  in  white  chalk,  in  high 
letters,  on  the  entrance-door.  I hated  to  have  them 
removed. 

N.  has  protested  to  the  Foreign  Office  regarding  the 
scurrilous  language  the  Impartial  has  used  about  the 
President,  the  Impartial  being  a government  organ. 
“Wicked  Puritan  with  sorry  horse  teeth,”  “Exotic  and 
nauseous  Carranzista  pedagogue,”  are  samples  of  its 
style. 

Evening. 

I have  had  a stone  for  a heart  all  day,  thinking  of  the 
horrors  that  are  to  be  multiplied.  Nelson  went  to  see 
Gamboa  this  afternoon.  Incidentally  the  raising  of 
the  embargo  was  mentioned,  and  Gamboa  said  he 
thought  Huerta  might  declare  war.  Like  all  the  rest, 
he  is  doubtless  ready  to  desert  the  old  man.  Apr  is 
mot  le  dtiuge  and  “ the  devil  take  the  hindmost  ” are  the 
sentiments  governing  people  here.  Mr.  Jennings  just 
rang  up  to  ask  if  we  had  heard  that  the  letter-bag  of  the 
Zapatistas  had  been  seized.  In  it  wras  a letter  to  Presi- 
dent Wilson  from  Zapata,  saying  he  upheld  and  was 
in  perfect  accord  with  his  (Wilson’s)  policy  toward 
Huerta.  A smile  on  the  face  of  every  one ! 

I went  to  the  Garcia  Pimentels’  at  four  o’clock,  where 
we  sewed  till  seven  for  the  Red  Cross.  The  women  there 
were  all  wives  or  daughters  of  wealthy  hacendados. 
They  asked  me  if  there  was  any  news,  and  as  usual, 

187 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


I answered,  “Nothing  new,”  but  I felt  my  eyes  grow 
dim.  This  measure  will  strike  them  hard.  The  hacen- 
dados  in  this  part  of  the  country  have  made  great  sac- 
rifices to  co-operate  with  the  Federal  government  (it  is 
the  only  visible  thing  in  the  shape  of  government)  in  the 
hope  of  preserving  their  properties  and  helping  toward 
peace. 

There  were  crowds  before  the  Church  of  the  Profesa 
in  “Plateros”  as  I drove  home.  The  church  had  been 
gutted  by  fire  the  night  before,  its  second  misfortune 
since  we  arrived.  Its  great  dome  was  rent  during  the 
terrific  earthquake  of  the  7 th  of  June,  19 11 — that  un- 
forgetable  day  on  which  I saw  Madero  make  his  tri- 
umphant entry  into  Mexico.  At  half  past  four  in  the 
morning  the  town  was  rocked  like  a ship  in  a gale,  with  a 
strange  sound  of  great  wind. 

The  Profesa,  which  has  only  just  been  repaired,  was 
built  late  in  the  sixteenth  century,  and  was  a center  of 
Jesuit  activity.  In  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  cen- 
turies all  the  great  marriages,  baptisms,  and  functions 
took  place  in  it.  One  can  see  in  one’s  mind  the  array  of 
proud  viceroys  and  their  jewel-decked  spouses  and  all 
the  glittering  functionaries,  and  last,  but  not  least,  the 
inevitable  accompaniment  of  the  Indian  population, 
wandering  in  and  out.  Yesterday,  at  San  Felipe,  Mass 
was  celebrated  by  a priest  with  a pronounced  Spanish 
eighteenth-century  ascetic  face  of  the  Merry  del  Val  type. 
As  he  turned  to  give  the  blessing,  I thought  of  the  many 
elect  and  beautiful  priests  of  Spain  who  had  in  bygone 
days  turned  with  that  same  gesture  and  expression  to 
give  the  same  blessing  to  like  throngs  of  uplifted  Indian 
faces.  The  Indians  crowd  the  churches  and  I am  thank- 
ful that  Heaven  can  be  foreshown  to  them,  somewhere, 
somehow.  They  are  but  beasts  of  burden  here  below. 


188 


XV 


Departure  of  the  British  minister — Guns  and  marines  from  Vera  Cruz — 
Review  at  the  Condesa — Mister  Lind — The  Benton  case — Huerta 
predicts  intervention — Villa  at  Chihuahua. 

February  12th. 

SIR  LIONEL  CARDEN  is  leaving  next  week.  He 
feels  (I  think  not  without  reason)  very  bitter  about 
his  experience  down  here.  He  is  going  to  London  via 
Washington.  I suppose  he  means  to  tell  the  President 
a lot  of  things,  but  when  he  gets  there  he  won’t  do  it. 
Something  in  the  air  will  make  him  feel  that  nothing  is 
of  any  use.  . . . 

The  protest  Nelson  made  to  the  Foreign  Office  over 
the  abusive  language  of  the  Impartial  was  in  big  head- 
lines in  the  newspapers  yesterday.  The  Spanish  lan- 
guage lends  itself  exceedingly  well  to  abuse.  Miron,  the 
man  who  wrote  the  articles,  now  goes  about  declaring 
that  he  will  shoot  Nelson  at  the  first  opportunity.  I 
don’t  think  anything  will  come  of  this,  however,  though 
it  keeps  one  a little  uneasy  in  this  land  of  surprises. 

February  13th. 

This  morning  we  received  a telegram  that  Nelson’s 
father  is  seriously  ill  (pneumonia)  and  all  day  I have 
been  broken  with  agonies  of  indecision.  Ought  I to  go 
to  New  York,  possibly  in  time  to  close  those  beautiful 
old  eyes  ? Or  ought  I to  stay  here  ? 

N.  intends  to  have  six  marines  come  up  from  Vera 
Cruz.  We  could  lodge  them  here.  This  house  was 

189 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


built  for  two  very  large  apartments  and  was  joined  by 
doors  and  stairways  when  taken  for  an  Embassy.  The 
very  large  dining-room  on  the  bedroom  floor  could  easily 
hold  six  cots  and  the  necessary  washing  apparatus.  It 
is  now  used  as  a trunk-room,  pressing-room,  and  general 
store-room.  Personally  I don’t  feel  that  anything  will 
happen  in  Mexico  City,  beyond  having  a premonition 
that  we  may  be  giving  asylum  to  Huerta  some  of  these 
days.  The  scroll  bearing  his  hour  still  lies  folded  upon 
the  lap  of  the  gods. 

February  17th. 

I decided  this  morning  not  to  go  to  New  York,  though 
Berthe  had  my  things  in  readiness  for  to-morrow  night. 
I was  afraid  that  when  I wanted  to  return  I might  not 
be  able  to  get  up  to  the  city  from  Vera  Cruz. 

I went  to  see  von  Hintze  this  morning  about  the  circus 
performance  on  Friday  night  for  the  Red  Cross.  He 
had  already  sent  out  invitations  for  a big  dinner  for  that 
night,  but  he  will  postpone  this  until  Saturday.  He 
thinks  there  will  be  trouble  here,  and  soon,  and  that  I 
would  never  have  time  to  go  and  return.  So  are  destinies 
decided.  Suddenly  it  was  clear  to  me  that  I was  to  stay 
with  my  boy  and  Nelson  and  await  results.  Von  Hintze 
considers  the  situation  desperate  and  has  sent  out  a cir- 
cular telling  his  nationals  to  leave  the  country.  In  that 
story,  “Two  Fools,”  you  will  see  some  of  the  disadvan- 
tages of  leaving,  faced  by  people  whose  all  is  here.  Von 
Hintze  is  having  Maxim  quick-firing  guns  up  from  Vera 
Cruz.  Three  good  mitrailleuses  and  the  men  to  work 
them  would  be  ample  protection  for  any  of  the  legations 
in  case  of  riots. 

Diaz  Miron,  who  is  threatening  Nelson’s  life,  has  al- 
ready killed  three  men.  Another  man  he  shot  limps 
about  town,  and  he  himself  has  a bad  arm.  He  is  a poet, 
a neurotic,  but  wrote  in  his  young  days  some  of  the  most 

190 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


beautiful  Spanish  verse  that  exists.  Now  he  is  old, 
violent,  and  eccentric.  I hardly  think  anything  will  come 
of  his  threats.  Huerta  has  other  Diaz  Mirons;  he  has 
but  one  American  charge  d'affaires;  and  if  necessary  Diaz 
Miron  can  be  put  in  the  Penitenciaria  or  Belem.  I 
only  fear  some  fool  may  catch  the  idea  and  do  what 
Miron  wouldn’t  do. 

A very  nice  cable  came  from  Mr.  Bryan  this  afternoon, 
saying  that  the  President  was  deeply  concerned  at  the 
threats  against  Nelson,  and  that  we  should  arrange  for 
secret-service  men  to  follow  him  when  he  goes  out  of 
the  Embassy;  and  also,  if  necessary,  have  a military 
guard  at  the  house.  There  has  been  a secret-service 
man  walking  up  and  down  outside  for  several  days,  and 
a dull  time  he  must  be  having. 

The  morning  was  soft,  yet  brilliant,  when  I walked 
down  to  von  Hintze’s.  It  seems  strange  that  blood  and 
tragedy  should  be  woven  in  such  a beautiful  woof.  Von 
Hintze  is  not  an  alarmist,  but  by  telling  me  to  go  to  New 
York,  on  the  theory  that  everybody  that  can  should 
leave,  he  certainly  decided  me  to  stay.  I can't  be  away 
if  anything  happens  here.  So  now  I am  calm  again. 
Having  been  ready  to  go,  not  dodging  the  hard  duty, 
makes  me  able  to  remain  in  peace. 

February  18th. 

We  have  a new  Minister  for  Foreign  Affairs,  a gentle- 
man, to  replace  Moheno,  the  joyful  bounder  who  has 
been  in  during  the  past  few  months.  Portillo  y Rojas,  the 
new  minister,  is  also  supposed  to  be  that  white  black- 
bird, an  honest  man.  He  has  held  various  public  offices 
without  becoming  rich,  even  when  he  was  governor  of 
the  State  of  Jalisco.  He,  like  all  the  rest,  however,  will 
do  as  Huerta  dictates. 

Maximo  Castillo,  the  bandit  responsible  for  the  awful 
Cumbre  tunnel  disaster,  was  captured  by  American 

191 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 

troops  yesterday.  Twenty-one  Americans  perished  in 
the  disaster.  I wonder  what  Washington  will  do  with 
him?  To  which  of  the  two  unrecognized  governments 
can  he  be  turned  over?  He  was  making  a big  detour 
around  a mountain  range,  with  a few  followers,  when  he 
was  caught,  trying  to  avoid  Villa.  This  is  another  piece 
of  good  luck  for  “the  tiger.” 

Huerta  continues  to  believe  in  himself.  N.  says  that 
unless  von  Hintze  had  information  of  a precise  nature 
that  Blanquet  (Huerta’s  intimate  friend  and  his  Min- 
ister of  War)  is  going  to  betray  him,  the  end  is  by  no 
means  in  sight.  But  treachery  is  as  much  a part  of  this 
landscape  as  the  volcanoes  are. 

Had  a wearing  sort  of  day,  full  of  comers  and  edges; 
also  the  first  real  dust-storm  of  the  season,  which  helps 
to  make  nerves  raw.  The  government  sends  down 
three  Gatling-guns,  which  Nelson  is  to  get  into  the  coun- 
try “anyway  he  thinks  best.”  It  will  not  be  a simple 
matter.  Everything  is  in  a combustible  condition  here, 
needing  but  a match  to  ignite  the  whole. 

Evening. 

Just  returned  from  Chapul tepee  from  Senora  Huerta’s 
reception.  It  was  her  first  in  two  months,  as  she  had 
been  in  mourning  for  her  brother.  The  “court”  wore 
black.  I found  myself  next  to  Huerta  for  tea,  having 
been  taken  out  by  the  Minister  of  Communicaciones — 
the  Minister  of  “Highways  and  Buy  ways,”  he  might 
be  called.  I had  a little  heart-to-heart  talk  with  the 
President — unfortunately  in  my  broken  Spanish.  He 
gave  me  some  flowers  and  all  the  good  things  on  the 
table,  and  in  return  I gave  him  a red  carnation  for  his 
buttonhole.  He  called  for  enchiladas  and  tamales — 
pink  jelly  and  fussy  sandwiches  don’t  appeal  to  him — 
but  the  majordomo,  with  a grin,  said,  11  No  hay.” 

A few  of  the  gens  du  monde  were  there.  It  seems  cruel 

192 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


for  them  to  boycott  their  own  government  as  they 
continually  and  consistently  do.  Huerta  has  promised 
to  put  a larger  house  at  our  disposition  for  the  Red 
Cross,  and  I begged  him  to  come,  if  only  for  a moment, 
to  the  benefit  circus  performance  on  Friday.  He  has 
some  military  engagement  for  that  night.  I think  we 
will  be  able  later  to  get  up  a really  productive  bull-fight 
for  the  Red  Cross,  if  he  will  sanction  it.  There  is  always 
money  for  bull-fights  in  this  country.  If  the  bull- 
fighters didn’t  come  so  high,  and  if  the  bulls  were  not 
so  dear,  a bull-fight  would  be  a wonderful  way  of  put- 
ting any  organization  on  its  feet! 

Huerta  sat  with  Nelson  the  whole  time  after  tea, 
in  the  bedroom  next  to  the  big  salon,  and  Nelson 
broached  to  him  the  subject  of  the  guns.  He  said  he 
could  bring  in  any  blankety  thing  he  pleased,  or  the 
Spanish  equivalent,  but  he  warned  him  to  do  it  quietly. 
We  were  almost  the  last  to  leave  and  Huerta  took  me 
on  his  arm  down  the  broad,  red-carpeted  stairs,  telling 
me  that  Mexicans  were  the  friends  of  everybody,  and 
offering  me  a pony  for  Elim.  When  we  got  to  the  glass 
vestibule,  in  front  of  which  the  autos  were  waiting,  he 
made  us  take  his  auto.  “Your  automobile,”  he  insisted, 
when  I said,  “Oh,  but  this  is  yours!”  What  could 
I do  but  get  in,  to  the  salute  of  officers,  our  empty 
car  following  us.  All  his  courtesies  make  it  a bit 
hard  for  us.  I felt  like  a vampire  in  a churchyard  or 
some  such  awful  thing,  when  I was  sitting  there  in  the 
big  salon,  knowing  that  Huerta  is  up  against  the  world 
and  can’t  but  slip  at  the  end,  no  matter  how  he  digs 
in  his  feet.  He  needs  fidelity.  It  is  nowhere  to  be  had, 
and  never  was  to  be  had  in  Mexico,  if  history  is  to  be  be- 
lieved. When  Santa  Ana  left  Mexico  City  with  twelve 
thousand  troops  in  1847  to  meet  and  engage  Scott  at 
Puebla,  he  finally  arrived  with  a fourth  of  that  num- 

193 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


ber— the  others  vanishing  along  the  road  a few  at 
a time. 

There  was  a good  deal  of  uniform  up  there  this  after- 
noon. I looked  at  those  gold-braided  chests  with  mingled 
feelings — pity  at  the  thought  of  the  uncertainty  of  life, 
and  a sickening  feeling  of  the  undependability  of  the 
sentiments  that  fill  them  when  the  constitution  is  in 
question. 

We  hear  that  Diaz  Miron  leaves  for  Switzerland  to- 
night; which,  if  true,  ends  that  little  flurry.  The  long 
arm  of  the  Dictator  moves  the  puppets  as  he  wills,  and 
I imagine  he  intends  to  take  no  risks  concerning  the  bright- 
est jewel  in  his  crown — i.  e.,  N.,  the  last  link  with  the 
United  States.  I keep  thinking  what  a “grand  thing’’ 
a dictatorship  is  if  it  is  on  your  side.  Most  of  the 
dozen  Huerta  children  were  at  the  reception — from  the 
youngest,  a bright  little  girl  of  seven,  to  the  fatuous 
eldest  officer  son  of  thirty  or  thereabouts.  A big  dia- 
mond in  a gold  ring,  next  to  a still  bigger  one  in  plati- 
num, were  the  most  conspicuous  things  about  him. 

A new  comic  journal  called  Mister  Lind  made  its  first 
appearance  to-day.  It  is  insulting  and  unclean,  with  a 
caricature  of  Lind  on  the  second  page.  I can’t  decide 
whether  the  name  is  bright  or  stupid. 

The  Mexicans  are  master-hands  at  caricature  and 
play  upon  words,  and  there  are  generally  some  really 
trenchant  political  witticisms  in  their  comic  papers. 
There  are  wishes  for  Wilson’s  early  demise  scattered 
through  the  pages  in  various  forms.  But  I imagine  they 
are  boomerang  wishes,  and  the  journal  itself  will  have  a 
short  and  unprofitable  life.  The  big  middle  page  has 
a picture,  calling  itself  El  Rcparto  de  Tierras  (“The  Divi- 
sion of  Lands”).  It  represents  a graveyard;  underneath 
are  the  words,  “tenemos  200,000  tierras  tenientes"  (“we 
have  200,000  landholders”) — a sad  play  upon  the  divi- 

194 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 

sion  of  lands.  Above  it  vultures  are  portrayed,  wearing 
Uncle  Sam’s  hat.  Another  caricature  shows  the  Mexi- 
cans carrying  a coffin  labeled  Asuntos  Nacionales  (Na- 
tional Affairs) , with  President  Wilson  as  a candle-bearer. 
The  press  gets  more  anti-American  every  day. 

On  one  of  N.’s  visits  to  the  President,  at  his  famous 

A BURIAL 


MEXICO:  “who  gave  you  a candle  to  carry 
IN  THIS  FUNERAL?” 

little  shack-like  retreat  set  in  among  a collection  of 
market-gardens,  at  Popotla,  he  began  to  talk  about  the 
division  of  lands,  saying  the  Indian  had  inalienable 
rights  to  the  soil,  but  that  the  lands  should  be  returned 
to  him  under  circumstances  of  justice  and  order.  On 

i95 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


no  account  should  they  be  used  as  a reward  for  momen- 
tarily successful  revolutionaries.  He  added  that  the 
United  States  had  never  respected  the  rights  of  their 
Indians,  but  had  settled  the  whole  question  by  force. 


February  igih. 

We  went  this  morning  to  the  big  military  revue  at  the 
Condesa,  one  of  the  most  beautiful  race-tracks  in  the 
world.  I thought  of  Potsdam’s  strong  men  under  dull 
skies.  Now  I am  in  this  radiant  paradise,  watching  more 
highly  colored  troops,  who  make  a really  fine  show,  and 
who  perhaps  are  soon  to  fight  with  ‘ ‘ the  Colossus  of  the 
North.”  Certainly  in  another  year  many  of  them  will 
have  been  laid  low  by  brothers’  hands.  The  President 
was  very  pleased  with  the  29th,  the  crack  regiment  that 
helped  him  to  power  a year  ago.  He  addressed  a few 
words  to  them,  and  his  hands  trembled  as  he  decorated 
their  flag,  pinning  the  cross  at  the  top  of  the  flag-staff, 
and  attaching  a long  red  streamer  instead  of  the  rosette 
that  generally  goes  with  this  decoration.  They  made  a 
fine  showing,  and  the  rurales , under  command  of  Rincon 
Gaillardo,  on  a beautiful  horse,  and  in  all  the  splendor  of 
a yellow  and  silver-trimmed  charro  costume,  were  a 
picturesque  and  unforgetable  sight.  The  rurales  wear 
great  peaked  hats,  yellow-gray  costumes  made  with  the 
tight  vaquero  trousers,  short  embroidered  coats,  and  long, 
floating  red-silk  neckties — such  a spot  at  which  to  aim! 
I suppose  there  were  six  or  seven  thousand  troops  in  all. 
Everything  was  very  spick  and  span — men,  horses,  and 
equipment.  It  was  a testimony  to  Huerta’s  military 
qualities  that  in  the  face  of  his  manifold  enemies  he 
could  put  up  such  an  exhibition.  I sat  by  Corona,  gov- 
ernor of  the  Federal  District,  and  watched  the  glittering 
dtfitt  and  listened  to  the  stirring  martial  music.  The 
Mexicans  have  probably  the  best  brass  in  the  world — 

196 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


le  beau  cote  de  la  guerre.  But  what  horrors  all  that  glitter 
covers!  Twice,  when  Huerta’s  emotion  was  too  much 
for  him,  he  disappeared  for  a copila,  which  was  to  be 
had  in  a convenient  back  inclosure. 

Evening. 

I started  out  with  Kanya  and  Madame  Simon  to  motor 
to  Xochimilco,  and  before  getting  out  of  town  we  ran 
down  a poor  pelado.  It  was  a horrible  sensation  as  the 
big  motor  struck  him.  I jumped  out  and  ran  to  him  and 
found  him  lying  on  his  poor  face,  a great  stream  of  blood 
gushing  from  a wound  in  his  head. 

They  wouldn’t  let  me  touch  him  till  a sergeant  came. 
Then  we  turned  him  on  his  back,  and  I bound  up  his 
head  as  well  as  I could,  with  a handkerchief  some  one 
gave  me,  and  with  one  of  my  long,  purple  veils.  I took 
the  motor — Kanya  and  Madame  Simon  are  not  used  to 
blood — and  went  quickly  to  the  comisaria  and  got  a 
doctor.  The  chauffeur,  whose  fault  it  really  was,  was 
trembling  like  an  aspen.  When  we  got  back,  it  seemed 
to  me  the  whole  peon  world  had  turned  out.  Finally 
we  got  the  victim  laid  on  the  Camilla;  and  now,  I sup- 
pose, his  poor  soul  is  with  its  Maker.  As  the  motor  is 
Kanya’s,  there  will  be  no  calling  him  up  in  court,  and 
he  will  be  very  generous  to  the  family.  I am  thankful, 
for  various  reasons,  that  it  wasn’t  the  Embassy  motor. 
I am  awdully  upset  about  it ; to  think  of  starting  out  on 
this  beautiful  afternoon  and  being  the  instrument  to 
send  that  poor  soul  into  eternity.  • . * * 

Later  I went  to  see  Madame  Lefaivre.  She  is  in  bed  with 
a “synovite;”  and  is  trying  to  superintend  her  packing  at 
the  same  time.  I met  von  Hintze  as  I came  out  of  the 
Legation.  He  informed  me,  with  a wicked  smile,  that 
the  review  was  to  celebrate,  or  rather,  commemorate,  the 
mutiny  of  the  celebrated  Twrenty-ninth  against  Madero 
last  February.  Well,  I hope  we  won’t  get  into  trouble 
14  197 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


with  the  powers  that  be.  He  addressed  me,  saying,  “I 
hear  you  presided  over  the  military  commemoration  of 
to-day.” 

I said,  ‘‘Good  heavens!  What  commemoration?”  I 
knew  nothing  of  it,  and  was  only  interested  to  see  what 
sort  of  a showing  the  troops  would  make! 

I write  no  more.  I feel  very  triste,  with  the  sight  of 
that  poor,  bleeding  head  before  my  eyes  and  the  memory 
of  the  impact  of  that  body  against  the  motor. 

February  20th. 

The  poor  man  is  still  alive,  but  is  going  to  die.  The 
curious  thing  about  the  fatality  (which  is  the  only  word 
for  it)  is  that  the  man  had  just  come  from  Queretaro, 
where  he  had  sold  a house  for  4,200  pesos,  which  he  had 
on  him,  and  which  were  subsequently  stolen  from  him 
at  the  policia.  I noticed  that  when  he  was  put  on  the 
stretcher  his  hand  for  a moment  convulsively  pressed 
his  belt.  I suppose  moving  him  brought  a momentary 
consciousness,  and  he  thought  weakly  of  his  all.  Doubt- 
less he  was  the  only  pelado  in  town  that  had  that  or  any 
amount  on  him.  The  chauffeur  is  in  jail,  and,  after  all, 
Kanya  will  have  a lot  of  trouble  before  the  matter  has 
been  arranged. 

The  comic  journals  of  this  week  have  just  appeared. 
All  take  a shot  at  Mr.  Wilson  for  his  recognition  of  Peru. 
Multicolor  has  him,  with  a smile,  handing  the  Rcconoci- 
miento  to  Peru — a handsome  young  woman,  representing 
la  Revolucidn — while  with  the  other  hand  he  tears  the 
map  of  Mexico  from  the  wall. 

The  other  day  Nelson  had  a most  interesting  talk  with 
Huerta.  He  said  he  realized  that  the  existence  of  any 
government  in  Mexico  without  the  good-will  of  the 
United  States  was  difficult,  if  not  impossible;  and  that 
he  was  deeply  distressed  that  they  did  not  take  into 

iq8 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


account  the  manifold  difficulties  under  which  he  was 
laboring.  It  was  at  this  interview  that  N.  arranged  the 
question  of  getting  in  arms.  Huerta  pointed  out  that  all 
the  requests  N.  had  made  him  on  behalf  of  the  United 
States  had  been  granted,  and  that  the  entire  Federal 
army  had  been  ordered  to  give  special  consideration  to 
Americans.  He  said  that  he  did  not  desire  to  criticize 
the  government  of  the  United  States,  but  did  wish  to 
point  out  that  if  it  defeats  him  in  pacifying  the  country 
it  will  be  forced  into  the  difficult  and  thankless  task  of 
armed  intervention.  He  continued  that,  on  looking  at 
the  Mexican  situation,  one  must  not  lose  sight  of  the 
fact  that  Mexico  is  an  Indian  country  (mentioning 
the  difficulties  we  had  had  with  our  Indians) ; that 
the  Indian  population  here  had  been  oppressed  by  the 
Spaniards  and  the  landowning  classes  for  centuries ; that 
during  the  regime  of  Porfirio  Diaz  they  had  conceived 
the  desire  for  material  betterment,  but  were  given  no 
chance  (the  chances  being  for  the  few) ; that  under  the 
regime  of  Madero  the  revolutionary  habit  became  gen- 
eral, as  the  sequel  of  unfulfillable  promises.  Also  that  the 
present  task  in  Mexico  was  not  to  establish  a democracy, 
but  to  establish  order.  He  did  not  criticize  the  rebels  of 
the  north,  but  said  they  would  never,  in  the  event  of 
victory,  be  able  to  establish  a government  in  Mexico, 
and  that  one  of  their  first  acts  would  be  to  turn  against 
the  United  States.  From  Maximilian  to  Huerta  they 
have  all  known  our  friendship  is  essential. 

The  Benton  case  is  going  to  make  an  untold  amount  of 
trouble,  and  the  Mexican  problem  again  comes  into  sight 
from  the  international  point.  A life  is  worth  a life,  per- 
haps, before  God ; but  dowm  here  the  murder  of  a wealthy 
British  subject  is  of  more  account  than  that  of  some  poor 
American  or  a thousand  Mexicans.  The  best  and  most- 
to-be-believed  version  of  Villa’s  shooting  of  him  is  that, 

199 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


on  Benton’s  expostulating  with  him  about  the  confisca- 
tion of  his  property  in  Chihuahua,  he  was  shot,  then  and 
there.  That  is  the  reason  they  have  been  unwilling  to  let 
his  wife  have  the  body,  which  shows  bullet- wounds  in  the 
wrong  places.  Villa  claims  he  was  shot  after  a court- 
martial  had  declared  him  guilty  of  an  attempt  on  his,  Villa’s 
life.  You  can  imagine  a wealthy  Britisher  attempting 
Villa’s  life ! All  any  foreigner  up  there  wants  is  to  be  let 
alone.  Whatever  the  true  history  may  be,  there  is  in- 
tense indignation  on  the  frontier.  Sir  Cecil  Spring-Rice 
has  made  formal  protestations  to  the  State  Department. 
The  English  press  is  aroused,  and  it  was  told  us  by  one 
correspondent  that  Sir  Edward  Grey  will  be  called  on  to 
answer  questions  in  Parliament.  The  fat  is,  at  last,  in 
the  fire. 

Dr.  Ryan  returned  yesterday,  more  or  less  discour- 
aged with  his  Washington  trip.  Everything  for  the 
rebels.  Mr.  Lind  is  so  fascinated  by  them  that  I under- 
stand he  is  counseling  direct  financial  aid — a loan.  He 
hasn’t  perceived  the  shape  and  color  of  events  here,  but 
has  become  obsessed  by  the  idea  of  getting  rid  of  Huerta. 
That  and  his  hallucination  about  Villa  cover  the  whole 
situation  for  him.  What  is  to  be  done  afterward  if 
Huerta  is  squeezed  out?  That  is  what  we  all  want  to 
know — the  afterward.  One  long  vista  of  bloodshed  and 
heartbreak  and  devastation  presents  itself. 


February  22d. 

Elim  has  gone  to  his  first  and,  I hope,  his  last  bull- 
fight, with  Dr.  Ryan.  He  has  clamored  so  to  go  that  I 
finally  yielded.  I feel  rather  uncertain  about  it.  There 
was  a very  chic  dinner  at  von  Hintze’s  last  night,  for  Sir 
Lionel,  who  leaves  on  Wednesday.  I feel  awfully  sorry 
for  him,  but  this  Benton  matter  may  be  a justification, 
to  a certain  extent.  He  says  he  is  only  to  be  gone  six 

200 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


weeks — but  qui&n  sabe?  Hohler  has  arrived — a good 
friend  of  ours.  His  are  safe  hands  in  which  to  leave 
matters. 

Nelson  is  busy  getting  one  of  the  American  corre- 
spondents out  of  that  terrible  Belem.  He  has  been  put 
in  there  with  all  those  vermin-covered  people,  with  their 
typhoid  and  other  germs,  and  must  have  had  some  bad 
hours. 

February  24th. 

Just  a line  this  morning.  Am  getting  ready  for  my 
American  bridge  party,  with  prizes,  this  afternoon.  I 
have  some  lovely  large  Ravell  photographs  in  good  old 
frames. 

Last  night  Patchin,  the  very  agreeable  young  Tribune 
correspondent,  came  for  dinner;  we  had  the  usual 
political  conversation  afterward.  Clarence  Hay  read  a 
poem  of  his  (which  I will  later  inclose)  on  the  murder  of 
young  Gen.  Gabriel  Hernandez,  last  July,  by  Enrique 
Zepeda,  then  governor  of  the  Federal  district.  Zepeda  is 
called  a “nephew”  of  Huerta,  but  is  supposed  to  be  his 
son.  Zepeda  gave  a supper  to  which  N.  was  invited;  at 
the  last  moment,  press  of  work  made  him  unable  to 
assist.  The  gods  were  with  him  that  time,  for,  after  the 
supper,  at  midnight,  Zepeda,  very  much  allume,  went  to 
the  Pcnitenciaria  where  General  Hernandez  was  impris- 
oned, took  him  out  into  the  patio,  and  shot  him  dead. 
His  men  then  burned  the  body,  over  which  they  were 
thoughtful  enough  to  first  pour  kerosene.  Zepeda  was 
put  in  jail  for  eight  months,  and  is  just  out.  When  he 
isn’t  intoxicated  he  is  almost  “American”  in  his  ideas, 
it  appears. 

Wednesday,  February  25th. 

Last  night  we  went  to  the  station  to  see  Sir  Lionel  off. 
I thought  the  cheers  that  went  up  as  the  train  moved 
out  of  the  station  were  for  him,  but  it  seems  they 

201 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


were  for  some  departing  bull-fighters,  who  are  always 
first  in  the  hearts  of  their  countrymen.  It  appears  that 
Sir  Lionel  is  carrying  with  him  documents,  plans,  maps, 
etc.,  with  a collection  of  fully  authenticated  horrors  com- 
mitted by  the  rebels  in  their  campaign.  He  may  not 
get  an  opportunity  of  laying  them  before  President  Wil- 
son, but  he  will  enjoy  showing  them  to  Sir  Cecil  Spring- 
Rice. 

Yesterday,  from  the  governor’s  palace  in  Chihua- 
hua, Villa  gave  forth  a statement  about  the  killing  of 
Benton.  He  was  seated  on  a throne-like  chair  on  a 
raised  dais,  in  almost  regal  style,  his  followers  surround- 
ing him  and  doing  him  homage.  The  gubernatorial  pal- 
ace is  fitted  up  with  the  greatest  luxury,  the  houses  of  the 
wealthiest  residents  of  the  town  having  been  sacked  for 
the  purpose.  Consider  the  picture  of  that  untutored, 
bloody-handed  brigand,  surrounded  by  his  spoils  and 
his  “courtiers.”  He  has  never  heard  how  “uneasy  lies 
the  head  that  wears  a crown,”  but  he  will  doubtless  have 
some  practical  experience  of  it.  He  has  contradicted 
himself  repeatedly  in  his  statements  about  the  killing  of 
Benton.  The  body,  bearing  its  mute  testimony  of  being 
riddled  with  bullets  by  a firing-squad,  lies  under  a heap 
of  refuse. 


XVI 


Huerta’s  impressive  review  for  the  special  correspondents — The  Grito 
de  Dolores — Tons  of  “stationery”  for  the  Embassy — Villa  and 
Carranza  disagree — The  Embassy  guard  finds  itself  occupied. 


E are  just  home,  after  seeing  the  review  (from 


Chapultepec  through  town  to  the  Zocalo ) of  all  the 
troops  now  in  the  city.  They  were  turned  out  for  the 
benefit  of  the  special  correspondents,  invited  to  the  gay 
scene  by  Huerta,  and  the  government  is  paying  all 
the  expenses.  The  regular  correspondents  in  town 
feel  rather  peeved  about  the  matter.  We  sat  in  the 
motor  in  the  Zocalo,  under  the  cloudless  sky  and  soft, 
penetrating  sun,  and  watched  the  defile.  The  banner  of 
the  Twenty-ninth  bore  the  long,  red  streamer  that 
Huerta  had  tied  on  the  other  day,  with  trembling  fingers. 
The  troops  were  all  well  armed.  They  had  new  rifles 
and  new,  well-filled  cartridge-belts,  and  the  effect  was 
most  encouraging — for  Huerta.  The  special  correspond- 
ents, from  the  windows  of  the  Palace,  had  their  cameras 
and  cine  machines  in  action.  Really,  Huerta  has  done 
wonders  to  keep  the  troops  together  so  well  and  so  long, 
in  the  face  of  such  overwhelming  odds.  The  bugle-calls 
and  the  martial  music  echoed  over  the  Plaza— the  setting 
for  so  many  centuries  of  the  hopes  and  fears,  the  begin- 
nings and  the  endings,  of  these  Mexican  people. 

I thought  of  the  1911  anniversary  of  the  Grito  de 
Dolores — that  night  of  the  16th  of  September  when  I 
stood  on  the  middle  balcony  of  the  Palacio,  with  de  la 


February  26th.  Noon. 


203 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


Barra  and  Madero,  when  the  former  was  still  President 
ad  interim,  and  the  latter  was  hoping  all  things.  There 
we  looked  down  on  fifty  or  sixty  thousand  upturned 
faces,  while  the  celebrated  Campana  de  la  Independencia 
(Independence  bell)  rang  above  our  heads,  followed  by 
the  great  bells  from  the  illuminated  towers  of  the 
cathedral.  The  present  is  nearer  the  past  in  Mexico 
than  anywhere  else. 1 As  we  came  home  we  were 
snapshotted  a dozen  times  by  the  disconsolate  cor- 
respondents who  had  not  been  invited  to  the  Palace 
to  “assist”  at  the  parade.  Coming  up  “Plateros,” 
Nelson  saw  Huerta’s  automobile  outside  of  “El  Globo” 
restaurant,  and  left  me,  to  go  in  to  speak  to  him. 

This  morning  the  big  banana-tree  in  the  front  garden 
was  released  from  its  winter  wrappings,  if  one  can  call 
these  cloudless  days  winter.  The  most  wonderful  ban- 
ners of  purest,  palest  yellow  are  gently  waving  against 
the  perfect  sky.  I am  now  waiting  for  Hohler  to  come 
to  lunch.  Sir  Lionel  went  off  (during  a tremendous 
norte),  in  the  battle-ship  Essex,  which  is  taking  him  to 
Galveston.  His  country  is  treating  him  almost  to  the 
honors  we  give  fleeing  Maderistas. 

Villa  has  not  yet  given  up  the  body  of  Benton.  If 
there  is  much  more  delay  it  will  not  be  able  to  bear 
testimony  to  the  truth.  Unfortunately,  a Federal  offi- 
cer, it  is  rumored,  has  hanged  an  American  citizen,  Ver- 
gara, at  Piedras  Negras.  His  pardon,  sent  from  head- 
quarters, came  too  late.  Huerta  will  probably  make  an 
example  of  the  hasty  officer,  if  the  deed  has  really  been 
committed.  We  heard  this  morning  that  Carranza  is 


1 This  is  the  famous  bell  the  priest  Hidalgo  rang  from  his  church  in  the 
village  of  Dolores,  in  the  State  of  Guanajauto,  in  the  early  morning  of 
September  16th,  1810,  sounding  the  appeal  known  as  the  “Grito  de  Do- 
lores” (cry  from  Dolores) — the  first  cry  of  Mexican  independence,  to  be 
continued  through  more  than  a century  of  blood  and  disaster, 

204 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


going  to  make  short  work  of  O’Shaughnessy  when  he 
gets  here.  When ! 

I had  a very  interesting  conversation  with  Hohler, 
who  is  thoroughly  sincere  and  trustworthy,  and  able  to 
look  at  things  as  they  are.  We  sat  long  over  our  coffee, 
talking  of  the  international  web,  of  which  Mexico  is  now 
so  uncertain  and  frail  a mesh.  He  intends  to  do  what 
he  can  for  his  nationals.  He  is  without  fear,  in  a prac- 
tical, unnervous  way. 

The  reverse  of  the  medal  is  that  he  is  a tireless  col- 
lector and  connoisseur  of  beautiful  things,  and  what  he 
doesn’t  get,  the  Belgian  minister  does.  Between  them, 
there  is  very  little  left  for  anybody  else. 

February  27th. 

Villa  is  still  refusing  to  deliver  up  the  body  of  Benton, 
even  at  the  risk  of  offending  the  United  States.  Huerta 
expects  Villa  to  hang  himself  with  his  own  rope.  He  says 
he  is  a tonto,  violent,  undisciplined,  and  can't  do  what  he 
ought.  The  rumors  that  he  is  refusing  to  receive  orders 
from  Carranza  are  taking  more  explicit  shape.  He  says 
that  Carranza  has  never  once  put  himself  in  danger; 
that  he  (Villa)  has  done  all ; that  he  receives  commands 
from  no  one.  He  has  repeatedly  and  vainly  been  asked 
to  go  to  confer  with  Carranza,  and  we  now  hear  that 
the  mountain  of  all  constitutional  virtues  is  going  to 
Mohammed.  The  deadly  wine  of  success  is  mounting 
to  Villa’s  head.  He  now  has  wealth  to  the  extent  of 
some  millions  of  pesos.  The  Torreon  and  Chihuahua 
confiscations  were  enormous,  not  counting  what  he  and 
his  followers  have  taken  in  all  the  small  towns  looted. 
He  has  not  the  sense  to  perceive  in  what  difficulties  his 
killing  of  Benton  has  placed  the  people  who  are  anxious 
to  be  his  friends.  He  evidently  thinks  that  a man  who 
cannot  write  or  read  must  “make  his  mark”  in  other 
ways. 

205 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


Our  Gatling-guns,  with  ammunition,  are  arriving  to- 
day in  Vera  Cruz,  by  the  Ward  Line  steamer.  They  are 
to  be  got  up  here  under  the  head  of  Embassy  supplies — 
stationery,  and  the  like.  Huerta  knows  they  are,  but 
wants  the  thing  done  in  a manner  that  he  can  wink  at. 
The  “stationery”  will  weigh  tons. 

February  28th. 

Elim  had  his  curls  shockingly  cut  this  morning,  but 
his  bang  has  been  left.  He  is  as  proud  as  a puppy  with 
two  tails.  The  “crime”  was  committed  by  a soft- 
speaking  Haitian  barber,  who  won’t  get  another  chance 
at  my  only  child.  Elim  knows  nothing  of  death  and  disso- 
lution; has  been  calling  “Mima,"  all  over  the  house,  and 
has  just  dashed  into  the  drawing-room,  where  I am  writ- 
ing, to  ask  for  a trumpet.  He  is  so  clever  about  music 
that  I am  almost  tempted  to  sacrifice  every  one  in  the 
house  and  get  him  one.  He  will  soon  be  playing  the 
national  air. 

Yesterday  I had  tea  with  Madame  B.  She  was  look- 
ing very  handsome,  lying  among  her  costly  blue-rib- 
boned laces.  The  baby,  born  ten  days  ago,  looks  like 
a miniature  “conqueror,”  with  its  severe  Spanish 
features  and  glossy  black  hair.  Madame  B.’s  father, 
who  is  one  of  the  wealthiest  hacendados,  spoke  with 
Huerta  for  the  first  time  several  weeks  ago  at  the 
Jockey  Club.  The  President  asked  him,  “How  are 
matters  in  Morelos?”  (The  Zapatista  country  where 
they  have  immense  sugar  haciendas.)  Don  L.  answered, 
“You  are  killing  us  with  your  demands  for  contribu- 
tions.” Huerta  grew  rather  excited.  “You  do  nothing 
for  the  country,”  he  declared,  “neither  you  nor  your 
sons.”  Don  L.  answered,  “I  have  lost  one  and  a half 
millions  in  the  past  year.”  “Lucky  man  to  have  it  to 
lose,”  commented  Huerta,  grimly.  “Great  sugar  crops 
are  now  ready  for  harvesting,  but  I can  get  no  men,” 

206 


THE  "DIGGINGS”  (AZCAPOTZALCO) 


THE  PYRAMID  OF  SAN  JUAN  TEOTIHUACAN 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


Don  L.  went  on;  “they  are  all  in  the  army.  Give  me 
men  and  I will  give  you  contributions.” 

Huerta  immediately  sent  the  men  needed,  the  sugar  is 
being  harvested,  and  Don  L.  feels  convinced  that  Huerta 
is  doing  what  he  can ; but  his  daughter,  who  told  me  all 
this,  added,  with  a smile  and  flash  of  white  teeth,  “Par- 
don me;  but  what  can  we  do  with  your  Mr.  Wilson  on 
our  backs?” 

Evening. 

We  have  had  such  a day  of  agitation.  Telegrams  from 
New  York  tell  us  that  Nelson’s  father  has  received  the 
last  sacraments.  We  have  telegraphed  to  Vera  Cruz  to 
know  if  one  of  the  smaller  fast  ships  is  in  the  harbor. 
I might  go  in  it  to  New  Orleans  and  thence  by  rail  to 
New  York — in  all  seventy-eight  or  eighty  hours  from 
Vera  Cruz.  Berthe  has  been  packing  my  things.  I 
know  lives  must  end,  but  my  heart  is  very  sad. 

I kept  my  engagement  to  take  the  Russian  and  Aus- 
trian ministers  out  to  Tozzer’s  Aztec  diggings.  Their 
governments  have  subscribed  money  for  archaeological 
work  in  Mexico  (I  have  never  quite  understood  why), 
and  Tozzer  was  most  anxious  to  have  them  see  what  he 
had  done.  We  had  tea,  and  regalitos  of  heads  of  idols, 
dug  up  on  the  spot — spontaneously  offered,  this  time. 
There  was  a dust-storm  blowing — the  volcanoes  were 
invisible — and  things  were  generally  gritty.  All  the  time 
my  thoughts  were  turning  toward  the  life-and-death 
issue,  and  I was  so  anxious  to  get  home. 

The  Lefaivres  leave  definitely  on  the  12th.  The  Lega- 
tion is  dismantled,  and  Madame  Lefaivre  is  still  lying 
with  her  knee  in  plaster.  Their  secretary  and  his  wife 
naturally  see  them  leave  with  mixed  feelings.  We  all 
know  how  that  is,  for  what  greater  benefit  can  a chief  be- 
stow than  absence?  Madame  Lefaivre  said  to  the 
secretary:  “What  if  the  ship  doesn’t  sail  on  the  12th?” 

207 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


He  made  the  most  polite  of  disclaimers,  but  she  answered, 
smilingly,  “Oh,  I know  the  hearts  of  secretaries!” 


March  ist. 

I have  just  come  from  Mass,  wondering  how  it  is  with 
the  soul  and  body  of  Nelson’s  father.  * * * 

This  morning  Washington  must  be  thinking  “how 
sharper  than  a serpent’s  tooth  ” ! Carranza  and  Villa  are 
defying  the  supreme  powers.  They  even  deny  our  rights 
to  ask  information  regarding  Benton,  who,  they  say,  is  a 
British  subject — adding  that  they  will  listen  to  only  such 
representations  as  are  made  to  them  by  Great  Britain  her- 
self “through  the  proper  diplomatic  channels.  ” No  one 
knew  any  such  channels  existed.  They  add,  further, 
that  this  ruling  applies  to  other  nations  desiring  redress 
for  their  people.  The  Frankenstein  monster  is  certainly 
growing.  Carranza  also  says  that  he  has  already  in- 
vestigated the  Benton  affair,  but  only  for  use  in  case 
Great  Britain  desires  to  take  up  the  matter  with  him 
as  head  of  the  revolution.  The  matter  of  Gustav  Bauch, 
American  citizen,  he  will  be  kind  enough  to  discuss  wdth 
Mr.  Bryan,  stating  that  he  “greatly  laments  his  death.” 
This  turn  is  most  unexpected,  though  Villa  and  Car- 
ranza were  very  uppish  several  months  ago  when 
William  Bayard  Hale  was  sent  to  treat  with  them. 
Now  that  the  embargo  is  lifted,  their  arrogance  knows 
no  bounds. 

Vergara,  the  supposed  American  citizen,  supposed  to 
have  been  put  to  death  at  Piedras  Negras  by  a Federal 
officer,  and  whose  death  so  greatly  outraged  Washington, 
has  simply  escaped  and  rejoined  the  rebel  forces.  It  ap- 
pears, on  investigation,  that  he  was  the  chief  of  a gang  of 
eighteen  bandits,  and  his  occupation  was  the  getting  in 
of  arms  and  ammunition  across  the  border  for  the  rebels, 
or  the  driving  of  large  herds  of  stolen  cattle  over  to  the 

208 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


American  side.  The  Federals  would  have  had  a perfect 
right  to  shoot  him. 

Yours  of  January  31st,  understanding  all  so  deeply, 
says  nothing  of  my  typewritten  letter  about  the  Vera 
Cruz  trip.  It  must  be  a relief  to  you  to  get  a legible 
letter.  McKenna,  N.’s  new  young  secretary,  discreet  and 
competent,  copied  it  for  me. 

Your  report  of  having  seen  a statement  in  the  news- 
papers about  “rushing  the  troops  up  to  Mexico”  re- 
minds me  of  a correspondent  of  one  of  the  big  New 
York  newspapers.  He  appeared  here  the  other  day, 
saying  he  had  been  sent  hurriedly  to  Vera  Cruz  on  in- 
side information  from  Washington  to  be  ready  to  go  up 
to  Mexico  City  with  the  troops. 

Last  night  Huerta,  in  view  of  the  safety  of  his  crown 
jewel — i.  e.,  Nelson — said  he  w'as  going  to  send  a guard  to 
the  Embassy.  There  was  an  equivocation  (there  always 
is  some  mistake  in  Mexico)  and  an  armed  guard  of  eight 
was  sent  to  the  American  Club,  a place  Nelson  rarely 
goes  to.  About  half  past  nine  we  had  excited  telephone 
calls  that  the  Club  was  guarded  by  these  soldiers,  as 
riots  were  evidently  feared  by  the  authorities.  The 
newspaper  men  sent  telegrams  about  it  to  New  York, 
but  it  wras  simply  a case  of  going  to  the  wrong  place. 
This  morning  four  soldiers  with  rifles  appeared  as  per- 
manent “guests,”  but  we  don’t  need  them.  We  have 
nice  old  Francisco  and  the  new  young  gendarme,  Manuel, 
who  was  added  some  months  ago.  Each  legation  here 
has  one  guard.  I am  glad  to  have  Francisco  and  Man- 
uel, on  Elim’s  account.  They  always  seem  to  know  just 
what  he  is  doing  in  the  garden. 

We  were  so  thankful  to  see,  in  one  of  the  newspapers, 
the  head-line, •“  Huerta  snubs  O’Shaughnessy.”  Of  course 
it  isn’t  true,  but  it  wdll  make  an  excellent  impression  at 
home;  and  it  may  even  give  N.’s  first-hand,  accurate  in- 

209 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


formation  about  matters  some  weight.  The  same  news- 
paper also  shows  a picture  of  Huerta  at  some  charity  per- 
formance with  his  wife  and  daughters  and  Naranjo, 
Minister  of  Public  Instruction.  He  looks  (and  doubtless 
felt)  the  personification  of  boredom.  The  head-lines 
are,  “Huerta  enjoying  social  life  while  riots  rage  in 
capital.” 

March  2d. 

Your  letter  of  the  5 th,  sent  after  the  raising  of  the  em- 
bargo, is  received.  I can  well  understand  your  worrying 
about  our  remaining  in  Mexico.  We  worried  for  a few 
minutes,  but  by  now  you  will  have  received  my  letter 
telling  all  about  it.  It  will  take  something  gigantic, 
something  outside  of  Huerta,  to  cause  him  to  give  Nelson 
his  passports,  no  matter  how  often  fiery,  enraged  Cab- 
inet Ministers  may  urge  it. 

Last  night,  on  returning  home,  we  found  that  Huerta 
had  sent  us  six  more  soldiers  with  a sergeant.  It  made  me 
feel  as  if  the  house  were  the  setting  for  an  act  from  some 
opera  bouffe.  We  gave  the  soldiers  packages  of  cigarettes 
and  a drink  apiece,  and  I suppose  they  rested  on  the 
sofas  or  floors  of  the  parterre.  N.  never  leaves  the 
house  without  his  secret-service  man,  a decent  fellow, 
but  dressed  to  the  role  in  a loud,  tight,  bright-blue 
suit  with  white  stripes,  and  pistols — the  last  articles 
outlined  against  his  person  every  time  he  makes  a 
motion.  We  have  a beautiful  new  motor — low,  smooth- 
running, painted  black,  with  a smart  dark-gray  band 
about  it.  He  occupies  the  seat  beside  Jesus,  gets  out 
when  N.  gets  out,  and  waits  around  ostentatiously  while 
N.  attends  to  whatever  he  has  on  hand.  He  is  an  awful 
bore,  and  quite  unnecessary,  but  Huerta  answered,  when 
N.  protested,  “Es  mejor"  (“It  is  better  so”). 


XVII 


The  torture  of  Terrazas — Mexico’s  banking  eccentricities — Departure 
of  the  Lefaivres — Zapatista  methods — Gustavo  Madcro’s  death — 
First  experience  of  Latin-American  revolutions — Huerta’s  witty 
speech. 

March  4th.  Afternoon. 

LAST  night  we  received  the  news  that  Nelson’s  father 
^ was  indeed  approaching  his  mortal  end.  This  morn- 
ing, at  seven  o’clock,  after  a sleepless  night  of  “vanish- 
ings  and  finalities,”  I went  down-stairs  in  answer  to  a 
telephone  call  from  Mr.  Jennings,  of  the  Hearst  news- 
papers— who  is  always  very  nice  about  everything — to 
say  that  he  had  passed  away  peacefully  at  half  past  six. 
You  know  the  days  of  death — how  strained,  how  busy, 
how  exhausting.  The  first  thing  I did  was  to  go  to 
Father  Reis,  at  San  Lorenzo,  the  San  Sylvester  of  Mex- 
ico, and  arrange  for  a requiem  Mass  on  Saturday  next, 
the  7th,  to  which  we  will  invite  the  Cabinet,  the  Corps 
Diplomatique,  and  friends.  Now  I am  at  home  again,  in 
the  mourning  garments  I wore  for  my  precious  brother. 


March  4th.  Evening. 

The  house  seems  very  quiet  to-night.  No  more  looking 
for  telegrams.  He  is  lying  on  his  death-bed,  looking  very 
handsome,  I know.  The  fatigue  of  the  busy,  aching  day 
is  on  me.  Many  people  have  been  here  to-day  to  tender 
their  sympathies.  Hohler,  the  last,  came  in  for  tea  after 
seeing  Nelson,  and  has  just  gone. 

Now  the  pouch  is  closed  and  everybody  and  every  - 

211 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


thing  has  departed.  Elim  is  lying  on  the  floor  in  front 
of  my  little  electric  stove.  The  chords  so  strongly  moved 
by  the  passing  of  my  beloved  brother  are  vibrating  again, 
not  alone  because  of  death  and  parting,  but  because  of 
life  and  the  imperfections  of  its  relationships.  Nelson 
has  accepted  his  father’s  death,  has  pulled  himself  to- 
gether, and  is  going  on  with  his  work,  of  which  there  is 
more  than  sufficient. 

How  true  it  is  that  men  follow  their  destinies  rather 
than  their  interests;  a something  innate  and  unalterable 
drives  each  one  along.  Genio  y figur a hasta  la  sepultura — 
a Spanish  saying  to  the  effect  that  mind,  temperament, 
inclination,  are  unchanged  by  the  circumstances  of  life, 
even  to  the  grave. 

March  5th. 

As  I was  reading  last  night,  waiting  for  dinner  to  be 
served,  a visitant,  rather  than  a visitor,  appeared  in  my 
drawing-room  incognito — a simple  “Mr.  Johnson,”  eager, 
intrepid,  dynamic,  efficient,  unshaven!  * * * 

Young  Terrazas,  the  son  of  the  former  great  man  of 
Chihuahua,  of  whom  I wrote  you  when  first  he  was  cap- 
tured by  Villa  at  the  taking  of  Chihuahua,  several 
months  ago,  has  not  yet  been  released,  and  Villa  threatens 
to  execute  him  to-morrow  if  the  half -million  of  ransom 
money  is  not  forthcoming.  The  father  has  raised, 
half  the  sum,  with  the  greatest  difficulty,  but,  fearing 
some  trick  (and  he  has  every  reason  for  distrust),  he 
won’t  give  the  money  till  he  receives  his  son.  It  appears 
■the  son  has  been  horribly  treated,  several  times  hung  up 
until  he  was  nearly  dead,  then  taken  down  and  beaten. 
Young  Hyde,  of  the  Mexican  Herald,  said  yesterday, 
apropos  of  like  matters,  that  he  had  seen  a man  brought 
last  night  to  Mexico  City  who  had  been  tortured  by  the 
rebels;  the  soles  of  his  feet  wrere  sliced  off,  his  ears  and 
tongue  were  gone,  and  there  wrere  other  and  nameless 

212 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 

mutilations,  but  the  victim  was  still  living.  The  only 
difference  between  the  rebels  and  the  Federals  is  that 
the  former  have  carte  blanche  to  torture,  loot,  and  kill, 
and  the  Federals  must  behave,  to  a certain  extent, 
whether  they  want  to  or  not.  It  is  their  existence  that 
is  at  stake.  Huerta,  though  he  may  not  be  troubled 
with  scruples  or  morals  other  than  those  that  expediency 
dictates,  has  his  prestige  before  the  world  to  uphold,  and 
is  sagacious  enough  to  realize  its  value.  The  rebels  go 
to  pieces  as  soon  as  there  is  any  question  of  government 
or  order.  Villa  is  without  doubt  a wonderful  bandit,  if 
bandits  are  what  the  United  States  are  after.  I see  by 
the  newspapers  that  Mr.  Bryan  is  begging  the  Foreign 
Relations  Committee  to  keep  the  Mexican  situation  off 
the  floor  of  Congress.  * * * 

One  by  one,  the  Mexicans  to  whom  we  have  given 
asylum  and  safe-conducts  to  Vera  Cruz,  upon  receiving 
their  word  of  honor  not  to  intrigue  against  the  govern- 
ment, break  that  word  and  go  over  to  the  rebels.  We 
have  just  seen  the  name  of  Dr.  Silva  (formerly  governor 
of  Michoacan,  whom  we  had  convoyed  to  Vera  Cruz)  as 
one  of  the  somewhat  tardy  commission  appointed  by 
Carranza  to  investigate  the  murder  of  Benton. 

We  are  aghast  at  the  resignation  of  Mr.  John  Bassett 
Moore  as  counselor  to  the  State  Department.  He  is 
learned,  perfectly  understanding,  and  very  experienced 
in  a practical  way  about  Latin-American  affairs. 

Yesterday  the  Minister  for  Foreign  Affairs  came  to 
present  his  condolences  to  Nelson,  and  also  to  protest 
against  the  bringing  up  to  the  Embassy  of  our  Gatling- 
guns  and  ammunition,  which  are  still  in  the  customs  at 
Vera  Cruz.  There  are  seventy  cases — and  not  feather- 
weights. He  fell  over  the  threshold,  as  he  entered,  and 
was  picked  up  by  Nelson  and  the  butler.  (It  was  his 
first  visit.  I don’t  know  if  he  is  superstitious.)  Huerta, 
15  213 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


as  you  may  remember,  in  the  famous  bedchamber  con- 
versation at  Chapultepec,  had  told  Nelson  he  could  get 
in  all  the  guns  he  wanted,  but  to  do  it  quietly.  It  is 
now  all  over  the  country  and  is  making  a row  among 
Mexicans.  In  these  days  of  grief  and  agitation,  N.  has 
happened  to  have  an  unusual  amount  of  official  work. 

I have  been  busy  all  day  with  the  list  for  to-morrow’s 
requiem  Mass,  and  it  is  almost  finished.  My  little  Shorn 
Locks  has  gone  up-stairs,  and  I am  resting  myself  by 
writing  these  lines  to  you. 

March  7th. 

We  are  waiting  to  start  for  the  church.  You  will 
know  all  the  thoughts  and  memories  that  fill  my  heart 
— that  descent  from  fog-enveloped  hills  into  the  cold, 
gray  town  to  lay  away  my  precious  brother.  Now  I am 
about  to  start  through  this  shimmering,  wondrous  morn- 
ing to  the  black-hung  church.  In  the  end  it  is  all  the 
same. 

March  gth. 

I have  not  written  since  Saturday  morning,  before 
starting  to  the  requiem  Mass.  I have  been  so  busy  see- 
ing people  and  attending  to  hundreds  of  cards,  tele- 
grams, and  notes.  Huerta  did  not  appear  at  the  church, 
as  people  thought  he  might  do.  Instead,  Portillo  y Ro- 
jas, the  Minister  for  Foreign  Affairs,  sat  by  us.  All  was 
beautiful  and  sad.  Afterward  we  went  into  the  sacristy 
to  receive  the  condolences  of  our  friends,  as  is  the  custom 
here.  Though  he  had  never  trod  the  threshold  of  our 
Mexican  dwelling,  it  still  seemed  inexpressibly  empty 
as  we  returned  to  it.  I was  glad  of  the  heaped-up  desk 
and  the  living  decisions  awaiting  N. 

Huerta  was  very  nice  on  seeing  him  to-day,  called  him 
“hijo ” (“son”),  gave  him  an  affectionate  abrazo,  and  all 
his  sympathy.  Subsequently,  Nelson  had  a long  talk  with 
him  in  a little  private  room  of  the  Cafe  Colon,  that 

214 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


Huerta  approached  from  the  back  entrance.  Huerta  is 
broad  in  his  ideas  and  very  careful  as  to  any  remarks 
about  the  United  States,  in  Nelson’s  presence.  He  al- 
ways speaks  of  President  Wilson  as  Su  Excelencia,  el  Se- 
nor  Presidente  Wilson;  there  are  no  diatribes  of  any 
kind.  The  thing  that  has  really  got  on  his  nerves  is  our 
keeping  his  4,000  soldiers  at  Fort  Bliss  and  expecting 
him  to  pay  for  them.  He  says  Mexico  is  not  at  war  with 
the  United  States;  that  the  rebels  are  allowed  to  go  and 
come  as  they  please,  and  even  to  organize  on  the  frontier. 
Why  this  discrimination?  He  says  that  our  govern- 
ment thinks  he  is  a bandit,  like  Villa,  but  that  if  Wash- 
ington would  be  just  it  would  see  that  he  keeps  his  mouth 
shut,  does  his  work  as  well  as  he  can  in  the  face  of  the 
terrible  injustice  done  him,  and  asks  nothing  of  any  one 
except  to  be  let  alone ; that  he  could  have  had  the  power 
in  Mexico  long  before  he  took  it.  He  repeated  that  many 
a person  of  influence  had  urged  him  to  put  an  end  to 
the  disastrous  Madero  administration ; that  he  is  not  in 
politics  for  personal  ends;  that  his  wants  are  few,  his 
habits  those  of  an  old  soldier.  He  always  insists  that 
he  did  not  kill  Madero.  * * * 

As  for  that,  one  can  talk  for  hours  and  hours  with  all 
sorts  of  people  without  finding  any  direct  evidence  of 
any  direct  participation  by  Huerta  in  the  death  of 
Madero.  I have  come  to  think  it  an  inexcusable  and 
fatal  negligence  on  his  part,  incidental  to  the  excitement 
and  preoccupation  of  those  tragic  days.  He  was  astute 
enough  to  have  realized  that  Madero  dead  would  be  even 
more  embarrassing  to  him  than  living,  and  should  have 
insisted  on  asylum  for  him  where  alone  it  was  to  be  had. 
There  is,  however,  at  times  a strange  suspension  of 
mental  processes  in  Mexico;  with  everything  possible 
and  yet  nothing  appearing  probable,  nobody  ever  fore- 
sees any  situation. 


215 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


I had  a long  call  yesterday  from  Rincon  Gaillardo, 
Marques  de  Guadalupe,  the  smart,  youngish  general. 
Besides  his  military  work,  he  is  doing  something  that  all 
the  members  of  the  upper  class  should  co-operate  in — 
i.  e.,  helping  to  amalgamate  the  classes.  His  father, 
Duca  de  Regia  and  ‘ ‘ Grand  d’Espagne,”  was  the  first  man 
in  society  here  to  receive  Diaz  when  he  came  to  power. 
In  fact,  in  his  house  Diaz  met  Dona  Carmen.  He  told  me 
that  Diaz  wasn’t  then,  by  any  means,  the  kind  of  man 
he  is  now,  after  thirty  years  of  power  and  knowledge. 

Last  night,  at  midnight,  Nelson,  who  had  gone 
to  sleep  early,  was  called  down-stairs  by  urgent  tel- 
ephone messages,  to  hear  that  the  Texas  Rangers  had 
dashed  over  the  border  to  Sabinas  Hidalgo  to  recover  the 
body  of  the  pseudo-American  cattle-rustler,  Vergara. 
Whether  the  report  is  true  is  not  known,  but  of  course 
it  is  an  act  that  would  be  resented  by  all  classes  here,  and 
every  class  really  hates  us. 

Villa,  not  being  able  to  get  the  full  amount  of  the 
ransom  out  of  Terrazas  pdre,  has  decided  not  to  execute 
the  son,  but  to  take  him  with  him  when  he  besieges 
Torreon,  and  to  place  him  wherever  the  bullets  are  thick- 
est. The  mad  dance  of  death  goes  on,  and  I feel  as  if 
we  were  the  fiddlers.  Mr.  Lind  has  so  idealized  the 
rebels  in  the  north  that  he  has  come  to  think  them 
capable  of  all  the  civic  virtues,  and  he  is  obsessed  by  the 
old  tradition  of  north  beating  south  whenever  there  is 
an  issue.  His  deduction  is  not  borne  out  by  facts,  as  in 
Mexico  it  is  the  south  that  has  produced  the  greatest 
number  of  great  men — “the  governmental  minds”;  the 
south  has  come  nearer  to  loving  peace;  the  south  has 
shown  the  greatest  degree  of  prosperity  and  advance- 
ment. Vera  Cruz  is  the  poorest  possible  vantage- 
ground  for  a study  of  conditions;  it  is  a clearing-house 
for  malcontents  of  all  kinds,  mostly  rebels,  fleeing  from 

216 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


the  consequences  of  some  act  against  some  authority. 
My  heart  is  heavy  at  the  grim  fatality  that  has  per- 
mitted our  policy  to  be  shaped  from  there. 

A dust-storm  this  afternoon,  with  all  the  color  gone 
out  of  the  air,  and  a few  thick  drops  of  cold  rain.  I 
left  cards  for  an  hour  or  two,  then  came  home.  I am 
glad  to  be  here  in  my  comfortable  home,  though  I can’t 
help  a shiver  as  I think  of  the  horrors  sanctioned,  even 
encouraged,  by  us  on  every  side.  B.  said  once  that 
the  policy  of  the  United  States  in  lifting  the  embargo 
was  to  really  give  Mexicans  a taste  of  civil  war!  There 
were  some  chirpings  from  Carranza  the  other  day,  to  the 
effect  that  “I  understand  Villa,  and  Villa  understands 
me.”  Doubtless  this  is  true;  but  they  say  that  after 
their  rare  meetings  the  old  gentleman  has  to  go  to  bed 
for  several  days. 

I have  just  been  reading  an  article  by  Mr.  Creelman 
on  Lind.  He  has  caught  the  spirit  of  Vera  Cruz  and 
described  exactly  Mr.  Lind  and  his  ambiente  there.  He 
speaks  of  him  as  “Mr.  Wilson’s  cloistered  agent.”  “In 
a small,  dark  room  with  a red-tiled  floor,  opening  on  a 
shabby  Mexican  courtyard,”  he  adds,  “in  the  rear  of  the 
American  Consulate  in  Vera  Cruz,  sits  John  Lind,  the 
personal  representative  of  the  President  of  the  United 
States,  as  he  has  sat  for  seven  months,  smilingly  watch- 
ing and  waiting,  while  Mexico  and  her  15,000,000  men, 
women,  and  children  have  moved  to  ruin.”  It  makes  me 
“creepy,”  it  is  so  true! 

March  10th,  5 p.m. 

I am  back  from  saying  good-by  to  dear  Madame  Le- 
faivre;  she  starts  off  to-night  with  swollen  foot  and  leg, 
and  I am  very  much  fearing  the  long  voyage  for  her. 
With  her  usual  good  nature  she  had  had  her  paint-box 
unpacked  and  was  sitting  on  a trunk,  putting  some  re- 
storing touches  to  a Madonna  of  most  uncertain  value, 

217 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


just  discovered  by  the  German  consul-general.  The 
Lefaivres  have  a pied-d-terre  in  Paris,  with  beautiful 
things  inherited  from  Madame  Lefaivre’s  father.  Le- 
faivre  has  decided  to  go,  if  the  heavens  fall,  and,  as  we 
laughingly  told  him,  if  his  wife  falls,  too,  for  that  matter. 
I besought  him  to  delay,  for  political  reasons,  but  the 
long  sojourn  is  on  his  nerves,  and  he  has  a bad  throat. 
I am  sorry  to  see  them  go,  on  my  own  account — such 
good  friends.  I am  writing  this,  expecting  Hohler  and  a 
woman  special  correspondent  for  tea.  Burnside  tells  me 
she  has  been  in  many  storm-centers  and  is  bright  and 
discreet. 

March  nth. 

N.  is  pretty  hot  about  the  arms  which  are  in  the  cus- 
toms here  in  Mexico  City.  The  officials  keep  him  run- 
ning from  one  to  the  other;  they  don’t  really  want  us  to 
have  them,  though  the  French,  German,  English,  and 
Japanese  legations  have  long  since  been  well  stocked. 
I came  down-stairs  to  hunt  for  literature,  about  four 
o’clock  this  morning,  and  heard  the  “Pretorian  guard” 
in  the  parterre,  laughing  and  joking,  as  guards  in  all 
ages  have  done.  There  are  unlimited  cigarettes  and  lim- 
ited pulque  to  make  their  watch  easy. 

Later. 

We  hear  that  Mr.  Lind  is  having  parleyings  with  the 
Zapatistas!  If  he  is  going  to  dream  this  dream  and 
pass  it  on  to  his  friends  in  Washington,  they  will  all 
have  the  most  awful  nightmare  ever  visited  on 
dreamers.  Zapata  has  been  the  terror  of  every  Presi- 
dent— Diaz,  de  la  Barra,  Madero,  and  Huerta — for 
nearly  five  years.  His  crimes  and  depredations  are  com- 
mitted under  the  banner  of  “Land  for  the  People,”  and 
there  has  been  a certain  consistency  about  his  proceed- 
ings, always  “agin  the  government”;  but  that  he  has, 
after  these  years  of  bloodshed,  rapine,  and  loot,  rendered 

218 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


conditions  more  tolerable  for  any  except  the  rapers  and 
looters,  is  most  debatable.  I once  saw  some  living  re- 
mains brought  to  the  Red  Cross  after  one  of  his  acts  at 
Tres  Marias,  about  fifty  kilometers  from  here.  A train 
was  attacked,  looted,  oil  was  poured  on  the  passengers, 
and  the  train  was  set  on  fire.  The  doctors  who  went  to 
the  station  to  get  the  remains  out  of  the  train  say  the 
sight  was  unforgetable.  The  name  Zapata  has  now  be- 
come a symbol  of  brigandage,  and  many  operate  under 
it.  No  general  sent  into  Morelos  has  ever  brought  order. 
For  instance,  one  was  sent  to  Michoacan  with  two  thou- 
sand cavalry,  to  put  down  a small  force  of  several 
hundred  brigands;  though  he  had  the  grazing  free,  he 
charged  the  government  50  centavos  per  horse!  It  be- 
came a vicious,  but  profitable,  circle,  as  you  can  well  see. 

There  has  been  a great  break  in  exchange.  The  peso, 
which  was  two  to  one  when  we  first  came  to  Mexico,  and 
lately  has  been  three  to  one,  or  nearly  that,  broke  Sat- 
urday, and  went  to  four  and  a half  to  the  gold  dollar. 
Various  explanations.  Huerta  has  been  threatening  to 
found  a bank  of  his  own  if  the  bankers  did  not  do  some- 
thing for  him.  Some  say  that  the  bankers  brought  on  the 
break  in  exchange  to  scare  him,  and  others  that  Huerta 
proposed  establishing  a bank  of  his  own  to  scare  them! 
Anyway,  exchange  broke.  During  his  conversation  with 
the  bankers,  apropos  of  the  loans  they  were  loath  to  give 
him,  Huerta  is  said  to  have  jocularly  remarked  that 
there  were  trees  enough  in  Chapultepec  Park  to  hang 
them  all  on  without  crowding.  Those  old  cypresses 
have  witnessed  a good  deal,  but  a consignment  of  indige- 
nous and  foreign  bankers  hanging  with  the  long,  gray 
moss  from  their  branches  would  have  savored  of  nov- 
elty. 

A gusty  day  on  this  usually  wind-still  plateau.  The 
pale  yellow  streamers  of  the  banana-tree  are  tom  to 

219 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


tatters,  but  one  must  forgive  an  occasional  vagary  in 
this  climate,  unsurpassed  in  its  steady  beauty,  and  which 
has  the  further  recommendation  that  one  can  count  on 
wearing  one’s  winter  clothes  in  summer,  and  one’s  sum- 
mer clothes  in  winter.  * * * 

Disorder  here  has  been  most  prejudicial  to  French 
interests.  Since  Maximilian’s  time,  especially,  they  have 
had  the  habit  of  investments  in  Mexico.  Now  billions 
of  francs  are  unproductive.  It  will  be  a fine  bill  poor 
old  Uncle  Sam  will  get  from  la  belle  France! 

7-30. 

My  callers  are  all  gone,  and  Elim  is  playing  bull-fight 
with  a red-velvet  square  from  one  of  the  tables,  talking 
Spanish  to  himself  and  making  every  gesture  of  his  game 
true  to  life.  I am  thankful  the  bull-fight  season  is  over. 
No  more  doleful-faced  servants  of  a Sunday,  heart- 
broken, like  children,  because  they  are  not  swelling  the 
gay  throng  passing  the  Embassy  to  the  Ring,  and  making 
me  feel  like  a wretch  because  they  aren’t  all  there. 

Nelson  went  down  to  try  to  look  at  his  guns,  presum- 
ably at  the  customs.  At  least,  he  is  as  near  as  that, 
with  ears  full  of  promises. 

A telegram  from  Aunt  L.  says  she  starts  up  from  the 
Hot  Country  in  a day  or  two.  I am  having  the  lovely 
corner  room  next  mine  made  ready  for  her. 

March  14th. 

We  learn  that  the  guns  and  ammunition  supposed  to 
be  got  in  quietly , as  Embassy  stores,  bore  on  the  invoice 
the  name  of  the  colonel  in  charge  at  the  Springfield 
arsenal.  Hence  these  tears ! They  are  now  reposing  in  a 
deserted  church  near  the  military  station,  outside  the 
city.  There  would  have  been  no  trouble  had  they  been 
sent  as  Nelson  requested.  Now  endless  runnings  are 
necessary. 

My  house  is  overrun  with  children.  They  tell  me 

220 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


it  looks  like  an  orphanage,  at  the  back.  Such  nice, 
little,  bright-eyed  Aztecs.  In  this  stricken  land  how 
can  I deny  shelter  and  food  to  little  children  who  are, 
so  to  speak,  washed  up  at  my  door  ? The  cook  has  three, 
the  washerwoman  two,  and  the  chambermaid  is  going 
to  present  us  with  another.  La  recherche  de  la  paternity 
shows  the  responsible  person  to  have  been  our  quiet, 
trusty  messenger,  Pablo.  I will  deduct  ten  pesos  a month 
from  his  wages  for  six  months — a salutary  proclama  to 
everybody  else  of  my  sentiments.  I will  send  her  to  the 
hospital,  and  she  will  soon  be  back.  The  washerwoman 
has  just  borrowed  ten  dollars  to  change  her  lodgings,  as 
the  leva  are  after  her  husband.  I sometimes  feel  like  one 
of  the  early  friars.  Nothing  that  is  Indian  is  foreign 
to  me. 

Last  night  Dr.  Ryan  was  telling  us,  after  dinner 
(Patchin,  who  is  returning  to  New  York,  also  was  here), 
of  the  killing  of  Gustavo  Madero,  of  which  he  was  an 
eye-witness  and  concerning  whose  death  so  many  ver- 
sions are  current.  Shortly  after  one  o’clock,  on  going 
back  to  the  Ciudadela,  where  Felix  Diaz  was  quartered, 
to  attend  to  wounded  who  had  been  brought  in,  Ryan 
encountered  Madero  being  brought  out  with  a guard 
of  twelve  men.  Diaz  didn’t  want  him  there,  saying  he 
was  not  his  prisoner,  but  Huerta’s.  Madero  was  gestic- 
ulating in  a hysterical  manner  and  waving  his  arms  in 
the  air.  As  Ryan  afterward  learned,  he  was  offering 
the  guards  money  if  they  would  see  him  safely  out  of 
town.  His  nerve  seemed  suddenly  to  leave  him  and  he 
began  to  run,  whereupon  one  of  the  guards  fired,  hitting 
him  in  the  eye  as  he  turned  his  head  to  look  behind  him. 
The  other  eye  was  glass.  This  gave  rise  afterward  to 
stories  that  his  eyes  had  been  gouged  out.  On  his  con- 
tinuing to  run,  the  whole  guard  fired  at  him,  and  he  fell, 
riddled  with  bullets.  Ryan  afterward  examined  the  body 

221 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


and  found  ten  or  twelve  wounds.  It  all  took  place  in 
the  little  park  before  the  Ciudadela.  This  is  the  au- 
thentic account,  and  at  least  we  know  that  Huerta  was 
in  no  way  responsible  for  his  death.  Doubtless  had 
Gustavo  kept  his  nerve,  instead  of  trying  to  run,  he 
would  be  alive  to-day.  He  was  an  awful  bounder,  but 
had  qualities  of  vitality,  intellect,  and  a certain  animal 
magnetism.  His  is  the  famous  remark  that  “out  of  a 
family  of  clever  men,  the  only  fool  was  chosen  for  Presi- 
dent.” He  wasn’t  more  than  thirty-five  or  thirty-six,  and 
loved  life.  He  had  a power  of  quick  repartee,  a glanc- 
ing eye,  and  hands  seeking  treasure.  Well,  that  is  all 
over,  but  it  remains  part  of  the  unalterable  history  of 
Mexico.  Poor,  revolution-ridden  Mexico!  Everybody 
here  has  been  one  kind,  generally  two  kinds,  of  revolu- 
tionist. Huerta  served  under  Diaz,  was  gotten  rid  of, 
and  served  under  Madero,  whom  he  got  rid  of.  Orozco 
was  the  friend  of  Madero  against  Diaz,  then  against 
Madero  under  Huerta,  and  so  it  goes.  The  history 
of  almost  every  public  man  shows  like  changes  of  ban- 
ner, and  as  for  revolution  fomenters,  the  United  States 
have  certainly  played  a consistent  and  persistent 
role  for  three  years,  outdone  by  no  individual  or  faction 
here. 

I shall  never  forget  my  first  experience  of  Latin- 
American  revolutions.  It  was  a beautiful  May  after- 
noon, now  nearly  three  years  ago,  when  a howling  mob 
of  several  thousands  went  through  the  streets,  shouting 
“Death  to  Diaz!”  finally  collecting  in  the  Zocalo  under 
the  windows  of  the  apartment  in  the  Palacio  Nacional, 
where  Diaz  was  lying  with  a badly  ulcerated  tooth  and 
jaw.  Two  days  later,  in  the  wee,  small  hours,  the  once- 
feared,  adored,  all-powerful,  great  man  of  Mexico,  with 
the  immediate  members  of  his  family,  was  smuggled  on 
board  a train  secretly  provided  by  Mr.  Brown,  under  the 

222 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


escort  of  Huerta,  and  was  taken  to  Vera  Cruz.  From 
there  he  embarked  on  the  Y piranga,  to  join  other  kings 
in  exile,  having  said  good-by,  probably  forever,  to  the 
land  of  his  triumphs  and  glories.  It  was  touch  and  go 
with  him  during  those  days,  and  he  had  created  modem 
Mexico  out  of  blood  and  chaos. 

When  Madero  is  put  out — in  the  almost  automatic 
fashion  by  which  governments  are  overthrown  in  Latin 
America — we  refuse  to  recognize  the  man  who,  by  armed 
force,  put  him  out,  as  he  himself  got  in.  Put  a revolu- 
tion in  the  slot  and  out  comes  a President.  We  isolate 
Huerta;  we  cut  him  off  completely  from  the  help  of 
other  nations;  we  destroy  his  credit;  we  tell  him  he  must 
go,  because  we  tolerate  no  man  coming  to  power  through 
bloodshed.  Huerta,  it  appears,  was  amusing  but  un- 
quotable about  the  recognition  of  Peru,  saying  in  part 
that  both  he  and  Benavides  w’ere  military  leaders,  and 
that  both  executed  a coup  d'ttat  resulting  in  the  over- 
throw of  the  existing  government.  In  Pern  the  r&volution 
du  palais  cost  the  lives  of  eight  functionaries,  among  them 
the  Ministers  of  War  and  Marine,  the  exile  of  President 
Billinghurst,  and  ended  in  the  setting  up  of  a junta 
government.  As  for  the  Peruvians  themselves,  they 
are  said  to  have  had  the  vertigo,  they  were  recognized 
so  suddenly — and  so  unexpectedly. 

You  will  remember  that  months  ago  we  gave  asylum 
for  a week  to  Manuel  Bonilla,  and  then  conveyed  him 
to  Vera  Cruz,  under  dramatic  circumstances,  on  his 
promise  not  to  join  the  rebels.  Well,  he  joined  the 
rebels  as  quickly  as  time  and  space  would  allow,  and  we 
read  in  this  morning’s  newspaper  that  he  has  now  been 
jailed  by  Carranza  for  plotting  against  him.  I suppose  he 
got  dissatisfied  with  what  he  was  getting  out  of  the  rebels, 
and  tried  something  subversive  that  looked  promising. 
If  Carranza  gets  any  kind  of  proof  against  him — or  prob- 

223 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


ably  without  it — he  will  execute  him  some  morning,  in 
the  dawn.  Oh,  the  thousands  of  men  who  have  walked 
out  in  the  chilly,  pale,  Mexican  dawn  to  render  their 
last  accounts! 

March  17th. 

Yesterday  I did  not  write.  Aunt  L.  arrived  unex- 
pectedly, at  eight  o’clock,  and  no  one  was  at  the  station 
to  meet  her.  However,  all’s  well  that  ends  well,  and  she 
is  now  up  in  her  red-carpeted,  red-and-gold-papered,  sun- 
flooded  room,  and  I hope  will  take  a good  rest.  By  way 
of  variety,  not  that  I have  much  to  choose  from,  I put 
Marius  the  Epicurean  and  The  Passionate  Friends  on  her 
night-table,  with  a single  white  rose.  She  has  ridden  her 
own  situation  so  courageously  and  so  wittily  all  these 
years,  that  I am  thankful  to  have  her  here  where  she 
can  turn  that  charming  blue  eye  of  hers,  which  so  makes 
me  think  of  yours,  on  my  situation.  When  I looked  into 
her  face  this  morning,  I quite  understood  why  they  call 
her  the  “Angel  of  the  Isthmus.” 

News  from  the  north  shows  slow,  but  sure,  disinte- 
gration of  the  rebel  ranks.  It  is  the  old  story  of  the  house 
divided  against  itself.  Also,  Villa  may  be  yielding  to  the 
Capuan-like  delights  of  Chihuahua  and  hesitating  to 
undertake  a new,  and  perhaps  inglorious,  campaign 
against  Torreon.  Just  how  Mr.  Lind  takes  the  slump 
in  rebels  — for  a slump  there  certainly  has  been  — I 
don’t  know.  We  are  beginning  to  see  the  results  of 
the  long  months  of  cabling  his  dreams  to  the  Pres- 
ident, who,  I am  sure,  if  he  ever  awakes  to  the  real 
kind  of  bedfellows,  that  he  has  been  dreaming 
with,  will  nearly  die.  The  Washington  cerebration 
doesn’t  take  in  readily  the  kind  of  things  that  happen 
here.  All  is  known  about  burglars,  white-slave  trade, 
wicked  corporations,  unfaithful  stewards,  defaulting 
Sunday-school  superintendents,  baseball  cheats,  and 

224 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 

the  like;  but  the  murky,  exotic  passions  that  move  Villa 
are  entirely  outside  consciousness. 

Poor,  old,  frightened  Carranza  must  feel  more  than 
uneasy  at  the  thought  of  that  great,  lowering  brute  in 
the  flush  of  triumph,  who  is  waiting  for  him  on  the 
raised  dais  in  the  government  house  at  Chihuahua. 
His  “cause”  is  dead  if  he  listens  to  Villa — and  he  is  dead 
if  he  doesn’t. 

I had  a call  from  the  minister  this  morning, 

and  a talk  about  the  matters  none  of  us  can  keep  away 
from.  He  looks  at  politics  without  illusion  and  in  a 
rather  Bismarckian  way.  . He  says  we  Americans  are  in 
the  act  of  destroying  a people  which  is  just  becoming 
conscious  of  itself  and  could,  in  a few  generations,  be- 
come a nation;  but  that  it  never  will  do  so,  because  we 
are  going  to  strangle  its  first  cry.  He  considers  that  it 
is  a geographical  and  ethical  necessity  for  us  to  have  no 
armed  nation  between  us  and  Panama,  and  if  we  can 
have  the  patience  and  the  iron  nerves  to  watch  its  disso- 
lution on  the  lines  we  are  now  pursuing,  it  will  be  ours 
without  a shot.  But  he  adds  that  we  will  get  nervous, 
as  all  modems  do,  watching  a people  on  the  rack,  and 
our  policy  will  break.  He  added,  with  a smile,  that  na- 
tions are  like  women,  nervous  and  inconsistent;  and 
that,  happily  for  the  Mexicans  and  foreign  Powers  inter- 
ested, we  won’t  be  able  to  stand  the  strain  of  watching 
the  horrors  our  policy  would  entail.  I cried  out  against 
this  parting  shot,  but  he  went  off  with  an  unconvinced 
gesture. 

March  iQlh. 

Yesterday  we  went  to  Chapul tepee  for  the  fiangailles  of 
the  second  son  of  Huerta  and  the  daughter  of  General 
Hernandez,  now  at  the  front.  It  was  a large  gathering, 
at  which  many  elements  of  the  old  society  were  present. 
The  powerful,  wealthy,  chic  Rincon  Gaillardo  clan  are 

225 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


playing  the  part  in  the  Huerta  government  that  the 
Escandons  did  in  the  Diaz  regime — a work  of  amalgama- 
tion, though  they  consistently  boycotted  the  Madero 
regime.  Of  course,  there  were  many  “curiosities.”  The 
two  spinster  sisters  of  Huerta  were  there  with  their  flat, 
strong  Indian  faces  and  thick,  dark  wigs  or  hair,  natu- 
rally steered  one  of  them  toward  old  gold  for  a costume, 
and  the  other  toward  shot  blue  and  red;  but  they  were 
dignified  and  smiling.  Senora  Blanquet  is  another  curi- 
osity. Blanquet  himself  is  one  of  the  handsomest  and 
most  distingue-looking  elderly  men  I have  ever  seen ; but 
his  wife,  was  squat,  and  flat-faced,  and  very  dark,  seem- 
ing to  have  come  out  of  some  long-hidden  corner  of  his 
history.  Madame  Huerta  looked  very  handsome  and 
amiable  in  a good  dress  of  white  silk  veiled  with  fine, 
black  lace,  the  famous  big,  round  diamond  hung  by  a 
slender  chain  about  her  neck. 

The  prospective  bridegroom,  twenty-three,  had  his 
mother’s  eyes;  and  the  family  seemed  happy  in  a nice, 
simple  way  in  the  midst  of  their  grandeur.  The  “tear- 
less” old  man  was  in  high  spirits,  and  his  speech  at 
the  tea  was  a great  success  of  spontaneity,  with  a few 
fundamental  truths  and  many  flashes  of  humor.  He 
began  by  telling  the  young  couple  not  to  count  on  him, 
or  his  position,  but  on  their  own  efforts  to  create  position 
and  honor;  and  to  begin  modestly. 

“You  know  how  I began,”  he  added,  with  what  I can 
only  call  a grin  illuminating  his  whole  face,  “and  look  at 
me  now!” 

Of  course  everybody  applauded  and  laughed.  Then 
he  became  grave  again.  “Struggle,”  he  said,  “is  the  es- 
sence of  life,  and  those  who  are  not  called  on  to  struggle 
are  forgotten  of  Heaven.  You  all  know  what  I am  carry- 
ing.” He  told  them,  also,  to  honor  and  respect  each 
other,  and  to  try  to  be  models;  adding,  with  another 

226 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 

flash,  “I  have  been  a model,  but  a mediocre  one!”  (“Yo 
he  sido  un  modclo — pcro  mediano!") 

It  all  passed  off  very  genially,  with  much  drinking  of 
healths.  Huerta  has  a way  of  moving  his  hands  and 
arms  when  he  speaks,  sometimes  his  whole  body,  with- 
out giving  any  impression  of  animation;  but  those  old 
eyes  look  at  any  one  he  addresses  in  the  concentrated 
manner  of  the  born  leader.  He  had  had  a meeting  of 
many  of  the  big  hacendados,  to  beg  their  moral  support 
in  the  national  crisis,  and  I imagine  their  attitude  had 
been  very  satisfactory.  They  are  to  contribute,  among 
other  things,  one  hundred  and  sixty  horses  to  haul  the 
new  cannon  and  field-pieces  shortly  coming  from  France. 
They  are  each  to  supply  ten  men,  etc.  He  was  wise 
enough  to  ask  them  to  do  things  they  could  do.  * * * 
I saw  a silver  rebel  peso  the  other  day.  It  had  ejercito 
constitucionalista  for  part  of  its  device,  and  the  rest  was 
“ Muera  Huerta !"  (“Death  to  Huerta!”)  instead  of  some 
more  gentle  thought,  as  “In  God  we  trust.” 

The  stories  of  rebel  excesses  brought  here,  by  refugees 
from  Durango,  pass  all  description.  It  was  the  Constitu- 
tionalistas  under  General  Tomas  Urbina  who  had  the 
first  “go”  at  the  town,  and  it  was  the  priests,  especially, 
that  suffered.  The  Jesuit  and  Carmelite  churches  were 
looted,  and  when  they  got  to  the  cathedral  they  had 
the  finest  little  game  of  saqueo 1 imaginable,  breaking 
open  the  tombs  of  long-dead  bishops  and  prying  the 
dusty  remains  out  with  their  bayonets,  in  the  hunt  for 
valuables,  after  having  rifled  the  sacristy  of  the  holy 
vessels  and  priceless  old  vestments.  The  wife  of  the 
rebel  cabecilla  wore,  in  her  carriage  (or,  rather,  in  some- 
body else’s  carriage),  the  velvet  mantle  taken  from  the 
Virgen  del  Carmen,  in  the  cathedral.  The  priests  can’t 
even  get  into  the  churches  to  say  Mass,  and  their  principal 

1 Saqueo  (sacking). 

227 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


occupation  seems  to  be  ringing  the  bells  on  the  saint’s 
day  of  any  little  chieftain  who  happens  to  find  himself 
in  Durango.  The  orgies  that  go  on  in  the  Government 
house  are  a combination  of  drunkenness,  revelings  with 
women  of  the  town  (who  are  decked  out  in  the  jewels  and 
clothes  of  the  former  society  women  of  Durango),  break- 
ing furniture  and  window-panes,  and  brawlings.  The 
once  well-to-do  people  of  the  town  go  about  in  peon 
clothes;  anything  else  would  be  stripped  from  them. 
This  seems  to  be  “constitutionalism”  in  its  fullest 
Mexican  sense,  and  what  crimes  are  committed  in  its 
name!  Heaps  of  handsome  furniture,  bronzes,  pianos, 
and  paintings,  once  the  appurtenances  of  the  upper-class 
homes,  fill  the  plaza,  or  are  thrown  on  dust-heaps  out- 
side the  town,  too  cumbersome  to  be  handled  by  the 
rebels  and  too  far  from  the  border  to  sell  to  the  Texans, — 
to  whom,  I understand,  much  of  the  loot  of  Chihuahua 
goes  for  absurd  prices. 


XVIII 


Back  to  Vera  Cruz — Luncheon  on  the  Chester — San  Juan’s  prison  horrors 
— Tea  on  the  Mayflower — The  ministry  of  war  and  the  commissary 
methods — Torreon  falls  again? — Don  Eduardo  Iturbide. 

Vera  Cruz,  March  21st. 

N.’S  sciatica  is  so  bad  that  Dr.  Fichtner  told  him  to 
get  to  sea-level  immediately.  So  last  night  we 
left,  Dr.  Ryan  coming  with  us.  At  the  station  we 
found  a guard  of  fifty  of  the  crack  Twenty-ninth  Regi- 
ment to  “protect”  us,  and  a car  placed  at  our  disposal 
by  Huerta.  We  had  already  arranged  to  go  with  Hohler 
and  Mr.  Easton,  who  is  the  secretary  of  the  National 
lines,  in  his  private  car,  thinking  we  wouldn’t  put  the 
government  to  the  expense  of  one  specially  for  us — 
though,  as  the  government  already  owes  some  millions 
to  the  railroads,  a few  hundreds  more  or  less  would  make 
little  difference.  We  were  half  an  hour  late,  as  we  in- 
sisted upon  having  the  government  car  put  off;  but 
the  fifty  soldiers,  with  a nice  young  captain,  suffering 
from  an  acute  attack  of  tonsilitis,  we  could  not  shake. 

At  Vera  Cruz  we  found  a norther  blowing,  and  I 
was  glad  to  have  my  tailor-made  suits.  Mr.  Lind 
seemed  not  quite  so  well  as  before.  I think  eight  months 
of  Vera  Cruz  food  and  monotony  have  told  on  him,  be- 
sides the  evident  failure  of  his  policy.  He  feels  dread- 
fully about  the  Creelman  article.  He  cast  one  look  of 
supreme  chagrin  at  me  when  I mentioned  Shanklin’s  dis- 
gust at  being  quoted  as  having  found  Huerta  in  the 
16  229 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


coulisses  of  a theater,  with  an  actress  on  each  knee, 
and  with  another  hanging  around  his  neck,  feeding 
him  brandy.  The  truth  being  that  Shanklin  went  to 
pay  his  respects  to  him  in  his  box  at  some  charity  repre- 
sentation, and  found  Huerta,  mightily  bored,  sitting 
alone  with  two  aides.  The  Lind  thing  is  not  so  easy  to 
refute.  He  did  write  the  letter  to  the  rebel,  Medina,  and 
he  has  dreamed  dreams,  and  sent  them  on  to  Washing- 
ton. His  policy  is  a dead  failure,  and  I think  its  ghost 
walks  with  him  at  night. 

We  lunched  on  the  Chester  with  Captain  Moffett,  who 
is  most  discriminating  about  the  whole  situation,  and, 
after  an  hour  on  the  wind-swept  deck,  came  back  to  the 
car,  where  we  found  delightful,  spontaneous  Captain 
McDougall,  of  the  Mayflower,  come  to  ask  us  if  we 
wouldn’t  transfer  our  bags  and  ourselves  and  servant 
over  to  his  ship.  The  annoying  part  of  the  whole  trip 
is  that  Admiral  Fletcher  is  in  Mexico  City.  We  did  not 
tell  any  one  of  our  coming  down  to  Vera  Cruz,  nor  did 
he  announce  that  he  was  coming  up,  with  Mrs.  Fletcher 
and  his  two  daughters.  However,  it  is  simply  one  of 
those  annoying  contretemps  for  which  there  is  no  help. 
They  went  up  by  the  “ Interoceanic  ” route  as  we  came 
down  by  the  ‘ ‘ Mexican.  ’ ’ I would  have  returned  myself, 
leaving  N.  on  the  Mayflower;  but  he  feels  that  he  must 
carry  out  the  plan  of  returning  to-morrow  night,  as  he 
has  correspondence  that  he  wants  to  show  the  admiral. 


Sunday. 

Last  night  we  dined  on  the  Essex,  to  which  Admiral 
Cradock  has  transferred  his  flag,  the  Suflolk  having  gone 
to  Bermuda  for  a new  coat  of  paint  and  other  furbish  - 
ings.  Admiral  Cradock  is  always  the  same  delightful 
friend  and  companion.  I played  bridge  till  a late 
hour,  with  the  admiral,  Hohler,  and  Captain  Wat- 

230 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


son.  Watson  has  just  come  from  Berlin,  where  for  three 
years  he  was  naval  attach 6.  I saw  many  photographs  of 
old  friends — the  Granvilles,  Sir  Edward  Goschen,  the 
Grews,  the  Kaiser.  After  a rather  uncertain  trip  back  to 
the  shore,  Hohler,  Nelson,  and  myself  threaded  our  way 
along  the  dark  interstices  of  the  Vera  Cruz  wharves  and 
terminal  tracks  to  the  car — I,  in  long  dress  and  thin 
slippers,  bowed  to  the  norte. 

We  can’t  get  out  to  the  Florida,  Captain  Rush  in 
command,  on  account  of  the  high  sea.  I went  to  Mass 
with  Ryan  in  the  cathedral,  which  they  have  painted  a 
hideous,  cold  gray,  with  white  trimmings,  since  I saw  it 
last.  Then  it  had  its  belle  patine  of  pinkish-brown,  that 
shone  like  bronze  in  the  setting  sun,  and  it  was  beautiful 
at  all  hours.  However,  the  winds  and  the  storms  and 
the  hot  sun  will  again  beautify  man’s  hideous  work. 

In  the  Car.  Sunday  Evening. 

We  had  lunch  for  Admiral  Cradock  and  several  of  his 
staff  in  the  car,  to  which  we  had  also  asked  Captain 
Moffett  and  Captain  McDougall — a rather  “close,”  but 
merry  company  of  nine  officers  and  myself,  in  the  little 
dining-room.  After  dinner  we  started  out  to  San  Juan 
Ulua. 

Monday,  10.30  a.m. 

I am  comfortably  writing  in  my  state-room.  We  are 
not  yet  near  Mexico  City.  My  beloved  volcanoes  are  a 
little  unradiant,  a dusty  veil  hangs  over  everything.  It 
is  often  that  way  a month  before  the  rains  begin. 

When  we  got  to  the  station  at  seven,  last  night,  we 
found  that  the  train,  which,  according  to  schedule,  was 
to  leave  at  7.20,  had  departed,  with  our  private  car  and 
the  servants,  at  6.55.  The  servants  had  begged  at 
least  to  have  our  car  uncoupled,  but  no!  You  can  im- 
agine the  faces  of  the  charges  who  had  to  be  in  Mexico 

231 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


City  Monday  morning.  The  upshot  of  it  all  was  that  a 
locomotive  was  finally  got  ready,  sent  to  catch  the  train 
and  to  bring  back  our  car.  After  the  telegraph  and 
telephone,  the  whole  station,  and  the  town,  for  that 
matter,  were  up  on  end,  we  got  off  at  ten  o’clock.  If  the 
car  had  not  come  back,  we  intended  to  board  a loco- 
motive and  to  chase  the  train  through  the  tropical 
night.  The  locomotive  we  finally  secured  broke  down 
later  on.  On  one  of  the  steep,  dark,  flower  - scented 
inclines,  strange,  dusky  silhouettes  gathered  silently  to 
watch  the  repairing,  which  was  finally  accomplished  in 
the  uncertain  light  of  torch  and  lantern.  Now  we  are 
due  at  the  city  at  12.30,  the  locomotive,  our  car,  the  car 
containing.,  the  fifty  soldiers,  and  the  poor  officer  who 
hasn’t  had  even  a drop  of  water  since  he  left  Mexico  City, 
Friday  night.  We  sent  pillows  and  blankets  out  to  him 
and  tried  to  make  him  comfortable,  but  of  the  good  cheer, 
wine  and  viands  he  could  take  none. 

I must  tell  you  about  the  visit  to  the  prison  of  San 
Juan.  After  lunch,  Dr.  Ryan,  Captain  McDougall,  Dr. 
Hart,  Mr.  Easton,  and  I got  into  the  Mayflower' s boat 
and  were  taken  to  the  landing  of  that  most  miserable  of 
places.  A strong  wind  was  blowing  from  the  purifying 
sea,  which  must  help,  from  October  to  April,  at  least,  to 
keep  San  Juan  from  being  an  unmitigated  pest-hole.  It 
is  a huge  place,  composed  of  buildings  of  different  pe- 
riods, from  the  Conquerors  to  Diaz,  with  intersecting 
canals  between  great  masses  of  masonry.  To  get  to  the 
commandant’s  quarters  we  were  obliged  to  skirt  the 
water’s  edge,  where  narrow  slits  of  about  three  inches’ 
width,  in  walls  a meter  and  a half  thick,  lead  into  other- 
wise unlighted  and  unaired  dungeons.  Human  sounds 
came  faintly  from  these  apertures. 

Entering  through  the  portcullis,  we  found  ourselves  in 
the  big  courtyard  where  the  official  life  of  the  prison 

232 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


goes  on,  overlooked  by  the  apartments  of  the  colonel 
and  the  closely  guarded  cells  for  big  political  prisoners. 
Good-conduct  men,  with  bits  of  braid  on  one  arm,  solic- 
ited us  to  buy  the  finely  carved  fruit-stones  and  cocoa- 
nuts.  To  us  these  represented  monkeys,  heads,  and  the 
like;  to  the  men  that  make  them  they  represent  sanity 
and  occupation  for  the  horrible  hours — though  God  alone 
knows  how  they  work  the  fine  and  intricate  patterns  in 
the  semi-darkness  of  even  the  “ best  ” dungeons. 

Afterward  we  went  up  on  the  great  parapets,  the 
norte  blowing  fiercely  — I in  my  black  Jeanne  Halle 
hobble-skirt  and  a black  tulle  hat,  as  later  we  were  to 
go  to  tea  on  the  Mayflower.  We  walked  over  great,  flat 
roofs  of  masonry  in  which  were  occasional  square,  barred 
holes.  Peering  down  in  the  darkness,  thirty  feet  or  so, 
of  any  one  of  these,  there  would  be,  at  first,  no  sound, 
only  a horrible,  indescribable  stench  mingling  with  the 
salt  air.  But  as  we  threw  boxes  of  cigarettes  into  the 
foul  blackness  there  came  vague,  human  groans  and 
rumbling  noises,  and  we  could  see,  in  the  blackness,  hu- 
man hands  upstretched  or  the  gleam  of  an  eye.  If  above, 
in  that  strong  norther,  we  could  scarcely  stand  the 
stench  that  arose,  what  must  it  have  been  in  the 
depths  below?  About  eight  hundred  men  live  in  those 
holes. 

When  we  got  back  to  the  central  court,  our  hearts 
sick  with  the  knowledge  of  misery  we  could  do  nothing  to 
alleviate,  the  prison  afternoon  meal  was  being  served — 
coffee,  watery  bean  soup,  and  a piece  of  bread.  Oh,  the 
pale,  malaria-stricken  Juans  and  Ramons  and  Joses  that 
answered  to  the  roll-call,  carrying  their  tin  cups  and 
dishes,  as  they  passed  the  great  caldrons.  They  filed 
out,  blinking  and  stumbling,  before  the  armed  sentinels, 
to  return  in  a moment  to  the  filthy  darkness ! Captain 
McDougall,  a very  human  sort  of  person,  tasted  of  the 

233 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


coffee  from  one  of  their  tin  cups.  He  said  it  wasn’t 
bad,  and  he  gave  the  men  a friendly  word  and  packages 
of  cigarettes  as  they  passed. 

We  bought  all  the  little  objects  they  had  to  sell, 
and  distributed  among  them  dozens  of  boxes  of  ciga- 
rettes. But  we,  with  liberty,  honors,  opulence,  and  hopes, 
felt  the  foolishness  of  our  presence,  our  blessing  of  lib- 
erty being  all  that  any  one  of  them  would  ask.  The  pris- 
oners are  there  for  every  crime  imaginable,  but  many  of 
the  faces  were  sorrowful  and  fever- stamped,  rather  than 
brutal.  All  were  apparently  forgotten  of  Heaven  and 
unconsidered  of  man.  We  also  visited  the  little,  wind- 
swept cemetery,  with  its  few  graves.  The  eternal  hot 
tides  wash  in  and  out  of  the  short,  sandy  stretch  that 
bounds  it.  About  the  only  “healing”  worked  here  is 
what  the  salt  sea  does  to  the  poor  bodies  raked  out  of 
those  prison  holes.  There  is  a stone  to  mark  the  place 
where  some  of  our  men  were  buried  when  they  took  the 
fortress  in  1847.  Dr.  Ryan  discovered  a foot  in  a good 
American  boot — evidently  the  remains  of  an  individual 
recently  eaten  by  a shark. 

That  fortress  has  been  the  home  of  generations  of 
horrors,  and  there  is  no  one  in  God’s  world  to  break 
through  that  oozing  masonry  and  alleviate  the  suffering 
it  conceals.  It  was  one  of  the  cries  of  Madero  to  open 
up  the  prison,  but  he  came,  and  passed,  and  San  Juan 
Ulua  persists.  I haven’t  described  one-tenth  of  the 
horrors.  I know  there  must  be  prisons  and  there  must  be 
abuses  in  all  communities;  but  this  pest-hole  at  the  en- 
trance to  the  great  harbor  where  our  ships  lie  within  a 
stone’s-throw  seems  incredible. 

Afterward,  the  contrast  of  tea,  music,  and  smart, 
ready-to-dance  young  officers  on  the  beautiful  Mayflower 
rather  inclined  me  to  stillness.  I was  finding  it  difficult 
to  let  God  take  care  of  His  world ! 

234 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 

March  24th. 

I am  sitting  in  the  motor,  jotting  this  down  in  the 
shade  of  some  trees  by  the  beautiful  Alameda,  waiting 
for  N.  to  finish  at  the  Foreign  Office.  Afterward  he  goes 
to  “ Guerra”  and  I to  shop. 

Yesterday  afternoon,  on  our  return  from  Vera  Cruz, 
N.  dashed  to  the  telephone  and  communicated  with  the 
Fletchers.  They  came  to  tea  at  four.  Later  Nelson 
went  out  with  the  admiral,  and  I drove  to  San  Angel 
with  Mrs.  Fletcher  and  her  two  pretty  daughters.  She 
is  most  agreeable.  Her  appreciation  of  the  sunset  on  the 
volcanoes,  which  were  in  their  most  splendid  array  for 
the  occasion,  was  all  my  heart  could  have  asked.  They 
return  to  Vera  Cruz  to-night. 

I am  feeling  very  fit,  after  a good  night’s  rest;  the  air 
envelops  me  like  a luminous  wrap,  and  the  sun  is  softly 
penetrating. 

The  arms  and  ammunition  are  not  yet  delivered. 
Nothing  was  done  in  N.’s  absence,  of  course.  He  didn’t 
want  them,  anyway;  of  what  use  are  they  in  civilian 
hands?  * * * 

The  War  Ministry  is  just  off  the  Zocalo,  in  one  side  of 
the  great,  square  building  of  the  Palacio  Nacional. 
From  where  I am  sitting  I see  the  soft,  pink  towers  of 
the  cathedral,  in  their  lacy  outlines.  On  the  left  is  the 
Museo  Nacional — a beautiful  old  building  of  the  pink, 
tezontle  stone  the  Spaniards  used  to  such  effect  in  their 
buildings.  It  contains  all  the  Aztec  treasures  still  re- 
maining after  centuries  of  destruction,  and  has  a cozy, 
sun-warmed  patio  where  the  sacrificial  altars  and  the 
larger  pieces  are  grouped.  Most  of  them  were  found  in 
the  very  site  of  the  cathedral,  which  replaced  the  teocalli 
of  the  Aztecs — the  first  thing  the  Spaniards  destroyed, 
to  rear  on  its  site  the  beautiful  cathedral.  I am  sur- 
rounded by  an  increasing  crowd  of  beggars,  drawn  by  a 

235 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 

few  indiscreet  centavos  given  to  an  old  Indian  woman, 
who  too  loudly  blessed  me;  cries  of  "Nina,  por  el  amor 
de  Dios!"  and  "Nina,  por  la  Santa  Madre  de  Dios!”  make 
me  feel  that  I would  better  move  on.  The  name  of  God 
is  invoked  so  unceasingly  by  the  beggars  here  that  the 
word  pordiosero  (for-Godsaker,  beggar,)  has  passed  into 
the  language. 

At  Home,  before  Lunch. 

N.  came  out  of  Guerra , having  met  in  the  corridor  the 
immensely  tall  Colonel  Cardenas,  the  best  shot  in  Mexi- 
co. He  is  supposed  to  know  just  how  Madero’s  mor- 
tal coil  was  hustled  off.  He  was  in  command  of  the 
squad  transporting  him  and  Pino  Suarez  from  the  Palacio 
to  the  Penitenciaria  when  they  were  shot.  We  then  went 
to  the  third  side  of  the  Palacio  Nacional,  where  the  zapa- 
dores  barracks  is,  to  see  how  the  officer  of  the  Twenty- 
ninth,  who  went  down  with  us  to  Vera  Cruz,  is  getting 
on.  It  was  very  interesting,  at  twelve  o’clock,  to  watch 
the  various  persons  who  bring  food  into  the  barracks. 
The  guards  search  them  all — men,  women,  and  children 
— by  passing  their  hands  down  their  sides.  The  prettier 
young  women  get  pinches  or  pokes  anywhere  the  guard 
happens  to  fancy  bestowing  them,  and  they  all  give  lit- 
tle squeals  and  jumps,  sometimes  annoyed,  sometimes 
pleased.  They  bring  in  great  baskets  of  tortillas,  enchi- 
ladas, frijoles,  fruits,  etc.  The  men  in  the  barracks  are 
absolutely  dependent  on  them  for  food,  as  there  is  no 
other  army  supply.  Another  guard  kept  off  troublesome, 
too  solicitous  small  boys  with  a bit  of  twisted  twine, 
flicking  them,  with  a stinging  sound,  about  the  legs.  I 
found  it  most  amusing.  Finally  the  young  captain  him- 
self came  out  to  thank  us  and  to  tell  us  he  was  almost 
well — with  an  expectant  look  on  his  pale  face.  He 
wants  N.  to  have  him  made  a major.  Why  not, 
when  every  officer  seems  to  have  been  promoted — a 

236 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


clever  trick  of  Huerta’s.  He  has  made  several  extra 
grades  at  the  top  to  give  himself  room.  He  will  need 
space  for  manoeuvers  of  an  army  largely  composed  of 
higher  officers.  He  is  going  to  get  the  interior  loan  of 
fifty  millions,  with  the  guarantee  of  the  Paris  loan.  * * * 
The  Austro-Hungarian  minister  has  just  come  to  ask 
me  to  go  out  to  San  Angel  with  him,  so  adieu. 

March  25th. 

We  have  just  had  a beautiful  motor-drive  out  to  San 
Angel  Inn,  talking  politics  and  scenery.  The  volcanoes 
had  great  lengths  of  clouds,  thrown  like  twisted  scarfs, 
about  their  dazzling  heads. 

Ivanya  de  Kanya  was  with  Count  Aerenthal  during  his 
four  years  in  Vienna,  as  Minister  for  Foreign  Affairs,  and 
during  that  time  made  copious  notes  relating  to  the 
burning  questions  of  the  Near  East,  which  will,  of  course, 
throw  light  on  the  big  international  issues  of  that  period. 
He  is  hoping  for  a quiet  time  out  here,  to  get  them  in 
order,  though  he  can’t  publish  them  until  a lot  more 
water  has  flowed  under  the  Austro-Hungarian  mill. 

I got  home  in  time  to  sit  with  Aunt  Laura  awhile  be- 
fore dressing  for  dinner,  for  which  I was  expecting 
Hohler.  The  meal  was  somewhat  unquiet.  One  of  the 
newspaper  men  called  up  to  say  that  Torreon  had  fallen, 
and  gave  a few  convincing  details,  such  as  that  of  Ve- 
lasco’s life  being  spared.  The  fifty-million-dollar  loan 
receded  into  the  dim  distance.  We  immediately  pic- 
tured to  ourselves  the  pillaging,  ravishing  hordes  of 
Villa — the  “human  tiger,”  as  some  of  our  newspapers 
mildly  put  it — falling  dowm  upon  Mexico  City,  the 
peaceful.  Nelson  ordered  the  motor,  and  he  and  Hohler 
went  out,  as  soon  as  dinner  was  over,  to  get  some  news 
at  the  War  Department.  A big  fight,  we  know,  is  going 
on.  As  I w’rite,  brother  is  killing  and  mutilating  brother, 

237 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


in  the  fertile  laguna  district,  and  horrors  unspeakable  are 
taking  place.  Velasco  is  said  to  be  honest  and  capable, 
and  he  has  money  and  ammunition. 

General  Maure,  who  left  for  the  front  a few  days  ago, 
wouldn’t  start  until  he  had  money  enough  for  two 
months  for  his  men.  He  also  is  supposed  to  be  honest, 
and  if  he  does  feed  his  men,  instead  of  putting  the  money 
in  some  bank  in  the  States  (if  they  would  all  feed  their 
men,  instead  of  asking  worn,  empty-stomached  men  to 
do  the  work),  he  may,  perhaps,  proceed  toward  victory. 
The  corruption  of  the  officers  is  what  nullifies  the  work 
of  the  army,  and  Huerta  says  he  is  powerless  against  it. 
Any  man  he  might  court-martial  is  sure  of  the  support 
of  the  United  States.  In  order  to  remain  faithful  the 
troops  only  ask  enough  food  to  keep  life  in  their  bodies 
during  the  campaign.  The  picture  of  starving  troops, 
locked  in  box-cars  during  the  night,  to  prevent  their  de- 
serting, and  then  being  called  on  to  fight  when  they  are 
let  out  in  the  morning,  makes  one  fairly  sick.  A free 
hand  at  loot  and  a full  stomach  on  food  belonging  to 
somebody  else  are  naturally  irresistible  when  the  chance 
comes. 

Such  an  appreciative  letter  has  come  from  Archbishop 
Riordan,  thanking  Nelson  for  his  Pius  Fund  achievement. 

Mexico  has  declined,  upon  good  international  law,  to 
take  upon  herself  the  board  bill  (now  amounting  to  hun- 
dreds of  thousands  in  gold)  for  the  interned  refugees 
at  Fort  Bliss.  We  wonder  how  long  Uncle  Sam  will  feel 
like  playing  host?  This  situation,  among  many  tragic 
ones  growing  out  of  our  policy,  is  the  only  thing  that 
calls  an  unrestrained  grin  to  the  face — a grin  at  Uncle 
Sam’s  expense. 

March  27th.  Morning. 

I am  sitting  in  the  motor  in  Chapultepec  Park,  under 
the  shade  of  a great  cypress,  while  N.  converses  with  the 

238 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


Dictator  in  his  motor  down  the  avenue.  All  sorts  of 
birds  are  singing,  and  a wonderful  little  humming-bird 
( chupamirtos , the  Indians  call  them)  is  so  near  I can  hear 
it  “hum.”  Elim  is  running  over  the  green  grass  with  his 
butterfly-net.  I am  thinking,  “Sweet  day,  so  soft,  so 
cool,  so  bright.”  This  seems  the  city  of  peace.  In  the 
north  the  great  combat  continues.  The  rebels  use  al- 
most exclusively  expansive  bullets,  which  give  no  chance 
to  the  wounded.  Huerta,  whom  Nelson  saw  last  night, 
is  calm  and  imperturbable.  His  loan  of  50,000,000  pesos 
is  an  accomplished  fact.  This  won’t  suit  Washington. 

Nelson  was  speaking  this  morning  of  the  famous  inter- 
view between  Lind,  Gamboa  (then  Minister  for  Foreign 
Affairs),  and  himself — that  interview  which  has  now  be- 
come part  of  history.  Lind  has  a characteristic  gesture 
— that  of  tapping  with  his  right  hand  on  his  left 
wrist.  With  this  gesture  to  emphasize  his  words 
he  said  to  Gamboa,  “Three  things  we  can  do  if  Huerta 
does  not  resign:  First,  use  the  financial  boycott.”  (This 
has  been  done.)  “Second,  recognize  the  rebels.”  (This 
has  been  done  to  the  fullest  extent  by  raising  the  em- 
bargo, giving  them  full  moral  support  and  being  ready 
to  give  them  financial  aid  with  the  slightest  co-operation 
and  decency  on  their  part).  “Third,  intervene.” 

These  propositions  were  set  forth  nearly  eight  months 
ago,  and  to-day  Huerta’s  position  is  better,  by  far,  than 
at  that  time.  He  has  kept  law  and  order  in  his  provinces. 
The  big  third  thing — intervention — yet  remains,  but  on 
what  decent  grounds  can  we  intervene? 

If,  by  any  remote  chance,  the  rebels  should  get  here, 
what  desecrations,  what  violations  of  Mexico  City — the 
peaceful,  the  beautiful! 

At  Home.  Afternoon. 

I waited  a long  time  for  Nelson  this  morning.  Gen. 
Rincon  Gaillardo  came  up  to  speak  to  me,  looking  very 

239 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


smart  in  his  khaki  riding-clothes  with  a touch  of  gold 
braid.  He  is  an  erect,  light-haired,  straight-featured 
Anglo-Saxon-looking  man.  He  had  just  returned  from  a 
tour  of  inspection  in  Hidalgo;  had  ridden  through  the 
state  with  a couple  of  aides,  and  had  found  everything 
most  peaceful.  I asked,  of  course,  if  there  was  any  news 
from  the  north;  but  everywhere  wire  and  communica- 
tion of  any  kind  is  cut,  and  no  one  knows.  Eduardo 
Iturbide  (he  is  spoken  of  as  governor  of  the  Federal  dis- 
trict to  succeed  Corona),  also  came  up  to  speak  to  me. 
A lot  of  people  were  waiting  to  see  Huerta,  but  he 
never  hurries.  After  he  had  seen  Rincon  Gaillardo  and 
Nelson,  he  went  away,  ignoring  discomfited  occupants  of 
half  a dozen  motors. 

Iturbide  always  says  he  has  no  political  talents,  but 
it  was  inevitable  that  he  be  drawn  into  events  here.  He 
would  give  prestige  and  dignity  to  any  office.  There  is 
a description  of  the  Emperor  Augustin  Iturbide,  “brave, 
active,  handsome,  in  the  prime  of  life,”  that  entirely  ap- 
plies to  him.  I wonder,  sometimes,  if  Don  Eduardo’s 
fate  may  not  be  as  tragic  as  that  of  the  man  whose  name 
he  bears.  The  ingredients  of  tragedy  are  never  missing 
from  any  Mexican  political  situation.  The  only  varia- 
tion lies  in  the  way  they  are  mixed. , What  I call  Mexi- 
can magic  has  a way  of  arresting  judgment.  One  never 
thinks  a thing  will  happen  here  until  it  has  happened — 
not  though  a thousand  analogous  situations  have  worked 
themselves  out  to  their  inevitable,  tragic  end.  It  was 
Don  Eduardo  who  made  to  me  the  profound  and  tragedy- 
pointing  remark,  “We  understand  you  better  than  you 
understand  us.”  1 

1 Later,  under  President  Gutierrez,  Don  Eduardo  made  a most  haz- 
ardous exit  from  Mexico.  With  Zapata  and  Villa  both  threatening  his 
life,  he  lay  concealed  for  some  days  in  one  of  the  foreign  legations  at 
Mexico  City.  A safe-conduct  from  Gutierrez  was  finally  procured,  and 

240 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


Huerta  keeps  very  calm,  these  days,  Nelson  says;  no 
nerves  there  while  waiting  for  news.  I suppose  he  knows 
just  how  bad  his  men  are,  and  also  the  very  indefinite 
quality  of  the  rebels.  He  talked  of  two  years’  work  be- 
ing necessary  for  pacification,  and  then  of  going  to  live 
in  Washington,  to  prove  that  he  is  neither  a wild  Indian 
nor  a brigand.  He  is  very  pleased  to  get  his  loan;  the 
money  is  here,  and  he  has  known  how  to  get  hold  of  it. 

At  the  outset  Huerta  was  surrounded  by  experienced 
and  responsible  men,  but  when  it  became  generally  un- 
derstood that  the  United  States  would  not  recognize  his 
government,  intrigues  were  started  against  him,  and  he 
was  forced  to  make  changes  in  his  Cabinet.  Later  on, 
when  a friend  reproached  him  wfith  this,  he  answered, 
quite  frankly,  “No  one  regrets  it  more  than  I;  for  now, 
unfortunately,  all  my  friends  are  thieves!’’ 

Yesterday’s  copy  of  Mister  Lind  has,  as  a frontis- 
piece, Mr.  Wilson  and  Villa,  standing  in  a red  pool, 
drinking  each  other’s  health  from  cups  dripping  with 
blood.  It  is  awful  to  think  such  things  can  exist,  even 
in  imagination.  N.  has  protested  to  the  Federal 
authorities. 

March  28th. 

This  morning  the  newspapers  give  the  “sad”  news 
that  Carranza  seems  to  be  lost  in  the  desert — the  moun- 
tain lost  on  its  way  to  Mohammed ! General  Aquevedo, 
who  knows  that  country  as  he  knows  his  pocket,  is  sup- 
posed to  be  after  him  with  1,200  men.  I don’t  think 
Villa  would  weep  other  than  crocodile  tears  if  anything 
happened  to  Carranza;  but  what  would  Washington  do 

he  left  the  city  with  Mr.  Canova,  one  of  our  agents.  Villa  got  news  of 
his  departure  and  pursued  him  to  Aguascalientes,  Torreon,  and  Chi- 
huahua, finally  coming  up  with  him  at  Ortiz.  Here,  in  the  darkness,  Don 
Eduardo  was  able  to  escape  from  the  train,  wandering  over  that  northern 
desert  for  eight  days  before  reaching  the  Rio  Grande,  which  he  swam, 
between  Mulato  and  Polvon. — E.  O’S. 

241 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


without  that  noble  old  man  to  bear  the  banner  of  Consti- 
tutionalism? “One  year  of  Bryan  makes  the  whole 
world  grin!”  The  idealization  of  a pettifogging  old  law- 
yer (licenciado) , who  had  already  laid  his  plans  to  turn 
against  Madero,  and  the  sanctification  of  a bloodthirsty 
bandit,  might  well  make  the  whole  world  grin,  if  the 
agony  of  a people  were  not  involved. 

I went  with  Dr.  Ryan,  this  morning,  to  visit  the  Gen- 
eral Hospital.  It  is  a magnificent  establishment,  mod- 
eled on  the  General  Hospital  in  Paris,  with  complete 
electrical,  hydro-therapeutic,  and  mechanical  appliances, 
thirty-two  large  sun-  and  air-flooded  pavilions,  operating- 
rooms,  and  special  buildings  for  tuberculosis  patients, 
children,  and  contagious  diseases.  The  sad  part  of  it  is 
that  it  is  only  about  a third  full.  The  leva  (press-gang) 
always  rakes  in  a lot  of  men  here.  They  hang  about  the 
handsome  doors  and  grab  the  dismissed  patients,  which 
makes  the  poor  wretches  prefer  to  suffer  and  die  in  their 
nameless  holes. 

On  returning,  I went  down  to  the  Palacio  Nacional 
with  N.,  who  was  on  a still  hunt  for  the  President.  The 
arms  are  not  yet  in  the  Embassy.  As  I was  sitting  in  the 
motor  with  Elim,  the  French  charge  got  out  of  his  motor 
with  Captain  de  Bertier,  the  French  military  attach 6 
just  arrived  from  Washington,  and  looking  very  smart 
in  his  spick-and-span  uniform,  ready  for  his  official 
presentation  to  Huerta.  They  had  their  appointment 
for  twelve,  which  had  already  struck,  but  the  President 
was  not  there,  having  departed  to  Popotla.  Huerta 
works  along  his  own  lines,  and  a missed  appointment  is 
little  to  him. 

Just  home.  Mr.  de  Soto  has  called  me  up  to  tell  me 
there  is  bad  news  from  the  front;  but  I think  even  the 
bad  news  is  a rumor,  as  every  line  around  Torreon  has 
been  cut  for  days. 


242 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


March  28th.  11.30  p.m. 

At  last  news  is  in  from  the  north  (by  the  Associated 
Press),  from  Gomez  Palacio  and  Ciudad  Juarez.  Two 
train-loads  of  rebel  wounded  had  arrived,  and  Villa  had 
hastily  telegraphed  for  more  hospital  supplies,  though 
he  had  taken  with  him  an  enormous  quantity.  At  the 
end  of  five  days’  continuous  fighting  the  rebels  had 
failed  to  make  any  break  in  the  almost  impregnable  de- 
fenses of  Torreon  and  Gomez  Palacio.  Wounded  troop- 
ers say  that  by  order  of  Villa  they  charged  into  almost 
certain  death  at  Gomez  Palacio,  bringing  upon  them- 
selves the  heavy  cannonading  from  the  Federal  guns; 
that  they  were  deliberately  sacrificed  in  order  that  other 
forces  might  be  able  to  attack  the  town  at  other  points 
without  encountering  much  resistance.  And  there  are 
strange  rumors  of  Villa’s  succumbing  to  temptation  from 
the  “movie”  men,  and  holding  the  attack  back  till  day- 
break! It  is  terrible  to  contemplate  the  slaughter  of 
unquestioning  and  innocent  Pepes  and  Juans.  I burn 
to  go  with  the  hospital  service.  There  will  be  terrible 
need  on  both  sides,  and  a wounded  man  is  neither  rebel 
nor  Federal. 

This  is  largely  an  agrarian  revolution,  and  Huerta  was 
the  first  to  realize  it.  He  says  that  everybody  has 
made  promises  to  the  people,  and  nobody  has  kept  them. 
I wonder,  if  the  people  ever  get  a chance  to  make  prom- 
ises, will  they  keep  them?  Quien  sabef  However,  all  this 
is  not  a question  of  taking  sides,  but  of  stating  facts. 

The  invitation  of  the  United  States  to  Huerta  to 
attend  the  Hague  Conference  has  been  solemnly  ac- 
cepted by  him;  now  international  jurists  are  called  on 
to  decide  if  the  very  sending  of  the  invitation  does  not 
imply  technical  recognition.  It  is  one  of  those  slips 
which  occasionally  happen,  and  Huerta  is  too  astute  to 
let  that,  or  any  other  opportunity,  pass  where  he  can 

243 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


score  against  the  United  States.  Things  being  equal,  he 
could  rouler  Washington  as  it  has  never  been  rouled  be- 
fore; but  things  aren’t  equal,  and  he  can  only  show 
immense  courage,  sustained  indifference,  and  indomita- 
ble will  in  whatever  may  come  up.  Just  now  more  and 
more  troops  are  being  rushed  to  the  north. 

We  are  delighted  to  hear  that  Warren  Robbins  and 
Jack  White  are  to  be  sent  here  as  second  and  third  sec- 
retaries. There  is  ample  work  for  all,  and  it  will  be 
pleasant  to  have  friends  and  co-workers.  It  has  been  a 
wearing  time  for  N.,  single-handed  in  all  official  deci- 
sions and  representations. 

News  from  the  north  is  more  encouraging,  but  a hor- 
rible struggle  is  going  on.  Elim  and  I went  with  Nelson 
to  Chapultepec.  Though  the  park  is  no  longer  crowded 
in  the  morning,  as  in  the  old  days,  the  band  having  dis- 
appeared, with  a lot  of  other  things,  there  is  still  much 
strolling  about  the  cypress-shaded  alleys.  A shining 
freshness  filters  through  the  old  trees,  the  birds  sing,  the 
children  play.  Its  beauty  makes  one’s  heart  both  glad 
and  sick.  As  we  expected,  we  found  the  President 
sitting  in  his  motor,  which  was  surrounded  by  half 
a dozen  others  full  of  petitioners  of  all  sorts.  Gen- 
eral Corral,  in  his  khaki,  came  up  to  salute  me  and  to 
say  good-by.  He  had  just  taken  leave  of  the  President 
and  was  on  his  way  to  the  station,  whence  he  was  start- 
ing to  the  north  with  2,000  men.  I pressed  his  hand 
and  wished  him  Godspeed;  but  he  may  never  again 
stand  under  those  trees  with  a smile  on  his  face  and  hope 
in  his  heart. 

The  President  got  out  of  his  auto  and  I out  of  ours, 
and  we  had  a talk,  I presenting  Elim.  Huerta  really  is 
a charming  old  fellow!  I told  him  I was  anxious  to  go 
to  Saltillo  with  the  Cruz  Roja.  He  said,  “There  will  be 
work  to  do  here  in  town,  and  I will  make  you  head  of 

244 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


the  International  League.  You  are  very  kind!”  ("Vd.es 
vtuy  buena,  Senora .”)  And  he  pressed  my  hand  with 
those  small,  velvety  paws  of  his.  He  has  discarded  the 
slouch-hat  and  now  wears  with  his  long,  loose  frock-coat 
a top-hat — (“ quc  da  mas  dignidad”)  ‘‘for  the  sake  of 
dignity,”  he  said,  when  Nelson  told  him  he  was  “very 
stunning.” 

Afterward  we  went  down  to  the  Buena  Vista  station, 
where  General  Corral’s  troops  were  being  entrained. 
We  found  a very  busy  scene.  There  were  long  lines  of 
baggage-cars,  with  fresh  straw  covering  the  floors ; other 
baggage-cars  containing  army  women,  with  their  small 
children,  babes  at  the  breast,  and  the  bigger  children, 
who  may  be  of  service.  Infants  between  two  and  ten  are 
left  behind.  There  is  a good  deal  of  heterogeneous  im- 
pedimenta. Having  no  homes,  these  women  are  wont 
to  take  all  their  possessions  with  them — bird-cages, 
goats,  old  oil-cans,  filled  with  Heaven  knows  what.  The 
soldiers  were  laughing  and  joking,  and  the  venders  of 
fruits,  highly  colored  bonbons,  and  still  more  highly  col- 
ored sweet  drinks,  were  having  a busy  time.  The  sun 
was  terribly  hot,  so  we  came  away,  I with  a prayer  in  my 
heart  for  the  poor  devils.  Is  “God  in  His  heaven”?  Is 
“all  well  with  the  world”? 

Monday  Morning. 

I am  advising  Dr.  Ryan  to  get  off  to  Torreon.  I 
myself  telegraphed  to  Admiral  Fletcher,  asking  that  a 
box  of  hospital  stores,  bandages,  cotton,  iodine,  adhesive 
tape,  and  bichloride  tablets  be  sent  up  by  the  officer 
who  is  coming  up  to  stay  with  us.  Dr.  Ryan  can 
get  off  to-morrow  afternoon.  There  is  work,  much 
work,  to  do,  and  I am  sick  that  “my  position”  pre- 
vents me  from  going  with  him.  My  hands  are  trem- 
bling for  work. 

As  to  news,  everybody  in  town  is  pleased,  Huertistas 
17  245 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


and  Villistas  alike.  The  former  have  had  word  of  com- 
plete victory — and  the  latter  hears  that  the  rebel  forces 
had  taken  every  gate  in  Torreon  and  that  the  Federals 
were  in  full  retreat! 


XIX 


Congress  meets  without  the  United  States  representative  — Huerta 
makes  his  "profession  of  faith” — Exit  Mr.  Lind — Ryan  leaves  for 
the  front — French  and  German  military  attaches — The  Jockey  Club. 

April  i st.  Morning. 

YESTERDAY  Lieutenant  Courts  (one  of  Admiral 
Fletcher’s  flag  lieutenants)  arrived  for  an  indefinite 
time.  He  is  a shrewd  and  capable  young  officer,  ready 
to  study  the  situation  intelligently  and  dispassionately. 
The  big  house  is  again  full. 

Yesterday  we  lunched  at  the  German  Legation.  The 
luncheon  was  given  for  the  French  military  attach 6, 
Count  de  Bertier  de  Sauvigny,  and  the  German,  Herr  von 
Papen,  both  from  Washington  for  a few  weeks.  The 
Simons  were  there,  the  von  Hillers,  and  various  others, 
everybody  trying  to  enlighten  the  two  new  arrivals  as  to 
la  situation.  Both  find  themselves  in  a position  re- 
quiring some  tact  and  agility  to  keep  their  seats — a cheval 
as  they  are  between  Washington  and  Mexico  City. 
Von  Hintze  has  never  cared  for  Huerta.  Occasionally, 
very  occasionally,  he  has  given  him  grudging  praise ; but 
a man  of  von  Hintze’s  fastidiousness  would  always  find 
himself  fluide  contraire  to  a man  of  just  Huerta’s  defects 
— defects  which,  I have  sometimes  argued  with  von 
Hintze,  become  qualities  in  Mexico.  All  came  to  tea 
with  me  later.  De  Bertier  is  a very  handsome  man,  of 
the  tall,  distinguished,  fine-featured  Gallic  type;  von 

247 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


Papen,  with  a pleasant  and  inquiring  smile,  is  the  quint- 
essence of  the  Teuton,  his  square  head  and  every  face 
bone  in  relief  against  the  Mexican  amalgam  type  my 
eyes  are  accustomed  to. 

The  story  about  the  loan,  Simon  says,  is  true.  Huerta 
remarked  to  the  banking  magnates  that  he  had,  outside 
the  door,  two  soldiers  apiece  for  each  gentleman;  that 
there  were  plenty  of  trees  in  Chapultepec ; that  he  would 
give  them  ten  minutes  to  decide  what  they  would  do. 
He  got  the  loan. 

In  the  evening  Hay  and  Courts  and  H.  Walker  and 
Ryan  dined  with  us,  all  staying  late.  Dr.  Ryan  fears  he 
can’t  get  up  to  Torreon.  The  road  between  Monterey 
and  Saltillo  was  blown  up  the  night  before  last,  and  it  is 
useless  to  try  to  get  through  that  desert  afoot  or  on 
horseback. 

Later. 

I went  out  to  Chapultepec  with  N.  and  Courts.  I 
wanted  to  show  Courts  the  administrative  tableau  set  in 
the  morning  beauty  of  the  park,  and  N.  had  urgent 
business  with  the  President.  There  was  the  usual  array 
of  autos  there,  the  President  in  his  own,  talking  with 
de  la  Lama,  Minister  of  Finance.  Afterward  Hohler, 
Manuel  del  Campo,  and  the  two  Garda  Pimentel  men, 
black-clad,  came  up,  having  been  to  the  honras  of  Ig- 
nacio Algara,  brother  of  the  Mexican  charge  in  Wash- 
ington. They  were  going  to  have  a sandwich,  and 
asked  Courts  and  me  to  go  into  the  restaurant,  which 
we  did.  N.  appeared  a few  minutes  later,  the  President 
with  him.  The  much-advertised  co pitas  were  immedi- 
ately served,  the  President  scarcely  touching  his  glass. 
After  much  badinage  between  Huerta  and  N.  the  jeu- 
ncsse  dor6  looking  on  rather  embarrassed,  Huerta  depart- 
ed, with  an  obeisance  to  me,  and  a large,  circular  gesture 
to  the  others.  He  had  a telegram  from  Ciudad  Por- 

248 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


firio  Diaz,  telling  of  immense  losses  of  the  rebels  and 
of  the  Federals  still  holding  their  ground — which  may 
or  may  not  be  true.  The  little  story  I paste  here  is  indic- 
ative of  Mexicans  in  general,  and  of  the  situation  in 
particular : 

The  Bafest  bet  regarding  the  many  stories  about  Torreon  yester- 
day, was  the  answer  of  a Mexican  mozo  to  his  master’s  query  as  to 
whether  it  would  rain.  After  a careful  survey  of  the  heavens  Juan 
replied:  “ Puede  que  si,  o puede  que  no,  pero  lo  mas  probable  es, 
quien  sabe?”  (Perhaps  it  will — perhaps  it  won’t;  but  the  most 
probable  is  “ who  knows ? ”) 

April  2d. 

Congress  reopened  yesterday.  Huerta  showed  some 
emotion  when,  in  the  morning,  Nelson  informed  him 
that  he  could  not  be  present.  In  the  same  room  that 
saw  its  dissolution,  the  same  old  Indian,  in  a business- 
like speech  that  would  do  credit  to  any  ruler,  briefly  out- 
lined to  Congress  the  work  of  government,  pending  de- 
tailed reports  by  the  departments.  There  is  a tragic 
note  in  the  fact  that  this  persecuted  government,  in  the 
midst  of  all  its  anxieties,  can  discuss  such  matters  as 
the  subterranean  hydrology  of  the  plateau,  and  the  send- 
ing of  delegates  to  the  electro-technic  congress,  in  Ber- 
lin. Huerta  wound  up  his  speech  with  these  solemn  and 
stirring  words: 

“Before  I leave  this  hall  I must  engrave  upon  your 
hearts  this,  my  purpose,  which  on  another  occasion  I 
communicated  to  the  National  Assembly  in  the  most 
explicit  manner — the  peace  of  the  republic.  If,  in  order 
to  secure  it,  the  sacrifice  of  you  and  of  me  becomes  indis- 
pensable, know,  once  for  all,  that  you  and  I shall  know 
how  to  sacrifice  ourselves.  This  is  my  purpose,  my  pro- 
fession of  political  faith.” 

There  was  immense  applause.  But  his  task  seems 
superhuman.  To  fight  the  rebels  and  the  United  States 
is  not  simply  difficult — it  is  impossible. 

249 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


April  2d.  Evening. 

Villa  talks  freely  about  his  plan  when  he  triumphs: 
first  and  foremost,  it  is  to  execute  Huerta  and  his  whole 
political  family,  on  the  principle  that  the  first  duty  of  a 
“Mexican  executive  is  to  execute”;  then  to  set  up  a 
dictatorship  for  a year.  The  program  drips  with  blood; 
and  these  are  the  people  we  are  bolstering  up ! 

Lind  leaves  to-night  for  Washington,  so  exit  from  the 
tragic  scene  Don  Juan  Lin  do  (I  sometimes  feel  like  call- 
ing him  Don  Juan  Blindo),  who  commenced  life  in  a 
Scandinavian  town  as  Jon  Lind,  and  who  has  ended  by 
dreaming  northern  dreams  in  Vera  Cruz,  in  the  hour  of 
Mexico’s  agony.  My  heart  is  unspeakably  bewildered 
at  this  trick  of  fate;  and,  too,  he  would  have  long  since 
precipitated  us  into  war  had  it  not  been  for  the  shrewd 
common  sense  and  trained  knowledge  of  the  gifted  man 
at  the  head  of  the  fleet  in  Vera  Cruz.  * * * 

A hot  indignation  invades  me  as  Mr.  Lind  drops 
out  of  the  most  disastrous  chapter  of  Mexican  history 
and  returns  to  Minnesota.  (Oh,  what  a far  cry!)  Upon 
his  hands  the  blood  of  those  killed  with  the  weapons 
of  the  raising  of  the  embargo — those  weapons  that,  in 
some  day  and  hour  unknown  to  us,  must  inevitably  be 
turned  against  their  donors.  It  is  all  as  certain  as 
death,  though  there  are  many  who  refuse  to  look  even 
that  fact  in  the  face. 

I am  not  keen  about  the  confidential  agent  system, 
anyway.  With  more  standing  in  the  community  than 
spies,  and  much  less  information,  they  are  in  an  unrivaled 
position  to  mislead  (wittingly  or  unwittingly  is  a detail) 
any  one  who  depends  on  them  for  information.  Apropos 
of  Mr.  Lind,  one  of  the  foreigners  here  said  it  was  as  if 
Washington  kept  a Frenchman  in  San  Francisco  to  in- 
form them  concerning  our  Japanese  relations.  For  some 
strange  reason,  any  information  delivered  by  confi- 

250 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


dential  agents,  is  generally  swallowed,  hook  and  all,  but 
unfortunately,  the  mere  designating  of  them  does  not 
bestow  upon  them  any  sacramental  grace. 

April  5th. 

Domingo  de  Ramos  (Palm  Sunday),  with  soft  wind  and 
warm  sun.  The  palms  were  blessed  at  the  nine-o’clock 
Mass  in  the  cathedral.  The  great  pillars  of  the  church 
were  hung  with  purple;  thousands  of  palms  were  waving 
from  devout  hands,  the  hands  of  beggars  and  the  rich 
alike,  and  there  was  some  good  Gregorian  music,  in- 
stead of  the  generally  rather  florid  compositions.  Near 
where  I knelt  was  a paralyzed  Indian  girl,  crawling  along 
on  the  most  beautiful  hands  I have  ever  seen.  Her  Cal- 
vary is  constant. 

Wonderful  palm  plaitings,  of  all  shapes  and  patterns, 
are  offered  by  the  Indians  as  one  enters  the  church.  I 
bought  a beautiful  sort  of  Greek-cross  design,  with  sil- 
very grasses  depending  from  it.  It  now  hangs  over  my 
bed. 

We  hear  that  the  Bishop  of  Chilapa  is  held  by  Zapata 
for  a big  ransom.  As  all  the  well-to-do  families  have 
either  fled  from  that  part  of  the  country  or  been  robbed 
of  all  they  had,  the  ransom  may  not  be  paid.  There  is 
a threat  to  crucify  him  on  Good  Friday,  if  it  is  not  forth- 
coming, but  I hardly  think  he  is  in  danger,  as  such  an  act 
would  certainly  be  thought  to  bring  a curse  upon  the 
people  and  the  place.  This  is  the  second  time  he  has 
been  made  prisoner.  He  was  rescued  by  Federal  sol- 
diers only  a few  weeks  ago. 

Monday  Evening. 

We  had  a pleasant  luncheon  at  Chapultepec  restaurant, 
on  the  veranda — von  Hintze,  Kanya  de  Kanya,  Stalew- 
ski,  the  Bonillas,  Courts,  Strawbensie  (the  young  naval 
officer  up  from  the  Essex,  who  is  supposed  to  be  training 
the  British  colony  volunteers),  Lady  C.,  von  Papen,  and 

251 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


ourselves;  de  Bertier,  the  French  military  attach 6,  did 
not  materialize.  They  think,  apropos  of  Torreon  (“the 
key  of  the  south,"  for  the  rebels;  “the  key  of  the  north," 
for  the  Federals),  that  the  Federals  may  have  been  obliged 
to  evacuate  it  and  are  now  fighting  to  get  it  back. 
Any  one  seems  able  to  take  Torreon,  and  no  one  seems 
able  to  hold  it. 

Tuesday  Evening. 

At  two  o’clock  Dr.  Ryan  left  for  the  front,  von  Papen 
with  him.  Ryan  has  learned  to  travel  light,  but  von 
Papen  took  a lot  of  impedimenta — eating-utensils,  uni- 
form, blanket,  pungaree  hat,  etc.  He  will  drop  his  pos- 
sessions, one  by  one,  as — after  Saltillo,  which  they 
should  reach  to-morrow  night — they  may  be  on  horse- 
back, or  afoot.  I was  deeply  touched  to  see  Dr.  Ryan  go 
off.  I made  the  sign  of  the  cross  on  his  shoulder  1 and 
commended  him  to  Heaven  as  we  stood  at  the  gate 
under  the  brilliant  sky.  He  is  so  pleased  to  be  taking 
all  those  stores  with  him — enough  for  two  hundred  and 
fifty  or  three  hundred  dressings,  not  including  the  other 
materials. 

I received  calls  all  afternoon.  At  four  the  two  hand- 
some Garcia  Pimentel  sisters  came — Lola  Riba  and 
Rafaela  Bernal.  At  five  the  Japanese  minister  brought 
his  wife  for  her  first  formal  call.  They  are  cultivated 
people,  with  the  quality  that  makes  one  feel  they 
are  used  to  the  best  at  home.  I made  conversation  till 
six,  when  Clarence  Hay  saved  my  life.  At  seven,  just  as 
I had  gone  up-stairs,  a Frenchman — a banker — ap- 
peared. At  eight  I was  too  tired  for  dinner,  which  N. 
and  I ignored.  The  “doves  of  peace”  are  beginning  to 

1 When  we  saw  Dr.  Ryan  off  to  Serbia  he  suggested  laughingly  that  I 
omit  the  cross,  as  he  was  in  jail  twice,  and  once  led  out  to  be  shot, 
between  that  Mexican  parting  and  our  meeting  in  Washington  six 
weeks  later! — E.  O’S. 


252 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


settle  in  the  Embassy  dove-cote  to-night — about  a ton 
of  them  already  here. 

Wednesday  Morning.  April  8th. 

A Federal  officer,  Colonel  Arce,  got  in  from  Torreon 
last  night.  He  says  that  on  Friday,  the  third,  it  was  still 
in  the  hands  of  the  Federals.  Chieftain  Urbina,  a noto- 
rious rebel,  had  been  captured  and  forced,  with  other 
Revolutionists,  to  parade  the  streets  of  Torreon,  be- 
tween a detachment  of  Federal  troops.  Then  he  was 
summarily  executed  in  the  presence  of  an  immense 
crowd.  The  railway  lines  are  open  between  San  Pedro 
and  Saltillo,  and  on  to  Mexico  City.  Unless  they  are 
again  blown  up,  Dr.  Ryan  and  von  Papen  will  be  able 
to  get  to  San  Pedro,  where  Generals  de  Maure,  Hidalgo, 
Corral  (the  one  I saw  off),  are  stationed,  with  large  re- 
inforcements. We’ll  take  the  report  for  what  it  is 
worth.  One  thing  we  know:  the  carnage  is  going  on. 

The  story  just  now  is  that  General  Velasco,  the  very 
competent  Federal  in  command  of  Torreon,  voluntarily 
evacuated,  took  his  army  and  his  field-guns  to  the  hills 
above  Torreon,  with  non-combatants  and  women  and 
children,  cut  the  water-supply,  and  is  now  waiting  orders 
from  Huerta  to  bombard  the  town.  He,  of  course,  has 
plenty  of  water  where  he  is;  but  Torreon  dry  must  be  a 
thing  of  horror.  This  story  agrees  with  a good  deal  we 
have  been  hearing.  If  true,  it  will  really  be  a great  coup 
on  the  part  of  the  Federals. 

April  9th.  Holy  Thursday. 

The  churches  are  full  to  overflowing,  these  holy  days. 
Men,  women,  and  children,  of  all  strata  of  society,  are 
faithful  in  the  discharge  of  their  duties.  In  this  city  of 
peace,  how  contrasting  the  tales  of  sacrilege  in  the  rebel 
territory!  Five  priests  were  killed  and  three  held  for 
ransom  in  Tamaulipas,  last  month;  a convent  was 
sacked  and  burned  and  the  nuns  were  outraged;  a 

253 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


cathedral  was  looted,  the  rebels  getting  off  with  the  old 
Spanish  gold  and  silver  utensils.  What  kind  of  adults 
will  develop  out  of  the  children  to  whom  the  desecration 
of  churches  and  the  outraging  of  women  are  ordinary 
sights;  who,  in  tender  years,  see  the  streets  red  with 
blood,  and  property  arbitrarily  passing  into  the  hands  of 
those  momentarily  in  power?  The  children  seem  the 
pity  of  it,  and  it  is  a bitter  fruit  the  next  generation  will 
bear.  Let  him  who  can,  take;  and  him  who  can.  hold; 
is  the  device  the  Constitutionalists  really  fly. 

In  the  old  days,  before  the  Laws  of  Reform,  there  used 
to  be  the  most  gorgeous  religious  processions;  but  even 
now,  with  all  that  splendor  in  abeyance,  there  remains 
something  that  is  unsuppressed  and  unsuppressable.  To- 
day the  population  has  streamed  in  and  out  of  the 
churches  and  visited  the  repositories  (with  their  blaze  of 
light  and  bankings  of  orange-trees,  roses,  and  lilies,  and 
countless  varieties  of  beautiful  palms),  with  all  the  ardor 
of  the  old  days.  No  restrictions  can  prevent  the  Indian 
from  being  supremely  picturesque  at  the  slightest  oppor- 
tunity. 

I went,  as  usual,  to  San  Felipe,  named  after  the  Mexi- 
can saint  who,  in  the  sixteenth  century,  found  martyr- 
dom in  Japan.  It  is  just  opposite  the  Jockey  Club. 
Outside  the  zaguan,  on  the  chairs  generally  placed  on 
the  pavement  for  the  members,  were  sitting  various 
males  of  the  smart  set.  All,  without  exception  (I  think  I 
could  put  my  hand  in  the  fire  for  them),  had  been  to 
Mass;  which,  however,  didn’t  prevent  their  usual  close 
scrutiny  of  the  small,  beautiful  feet  of  the  passing  Mexi- 
can women;  two  and  one-half  C is  the  usual  size  of  a 
Mexicana’s  shoes. 

This  Casa  de  los  Azujelos,  where  the  Jockey  Club  has 
had  its  being  for  generations,  is  a most  lovely  old  house. 
It  is  covered  with  beautiful  blue-and-white  Puebla  tiles, 

254 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


appliqued  by  an  extravagant  and  aesthetic  Mexican  in 
the  seventeenth  century,  and  is  perfectly  preserved,  in 
spite  of  the  many  kinds  of  revolutionaries  who  have 
surged  up  the  Avenida  San  Francisco,  which,  with  the 
Paseo,  forms  the  thoroughfare  between  the  Palacio  and 
Chapultepec.  The  men  of  the  club  play  high  and  there 
are  stories  of  fabulous  losses,  as  well  as  of  occasional 
shootings  to  death.  It  is  the  chic,  aristocratic  club  of 
Mexico,  the  last  and  inviolable  retreat  of  husbands.  Any- 
body who  is  any  one  belongs  to  it.1 

A telegram  from  Dr.  Ryan  this  morning  reports: 
“The  Federals  have  lost  Torreon.  Velasco,  retreating, 
met  Maure,  Maass,  and  Hidalgo,  at  San  Pedro;  army 
reorganized,  and  it  is  now  attacking  Torreon,  and  will 
surely  take  it  back.”  He  and  von  Papen  got  as  far  as 
Saltillo  by  rail.  There,  communications  had  been  cut. 
There  had  been  a big  encounter  at  San  Pedro  de  las 
Colonias,  and  I hope  that  even  as  I write  faithful  Ryan 
is  proceeding  with  his  work  of  mercy  among  the  wounded. 

There  was  a meeting  at  the  Embassy  to-day,  to  discuss 
ways  and  means  of  defense  among  the  Americans  if  any- 
thing happens  in  the  city.  Von  Hintze  and  von  Papen 
have  tried  to  do  some  organizing  among  their  colony. 
The  Japanese  have  long  since  had  carte  blanche  from  the 
government  in  the  way  of  ammunition  and  marines  from 
their  ships  at  Manzanillo.  Sir  Christopher,  some  time  ago, 
sent  Lieutenant  Strawbensie  up  from  Vera  Cruz,  to  teach 
the  English  colony  a few  rudiments — and  the  French 
have  also  had  a naval  officer  here  for  several  weeks. 

Last  night,  it  appears,  the  boat  taking  480,000  pesos 
to  the  north  coast  to  pay  the  troops  was  captured  by 

1 Now  the  dub  is  stripped  of  its  sumptuous  fittings  and  historic  pic- 
tures and  library,  and  is  a working-man’s  home  ( casa  de  obreros)  under 
the  philanthropic  and  broad-minded  Constitucionalistas . The  beautiful 
old  patio  is  used  for  stabling  horses. 

255 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 

rebels.  “Juan  and  Jose”  always  come  out  at  the  little 
end  of  the  horn.  There  are  immense  geographical  dif- 
ficulties in  the  way  of  transporting  money  to  the  army 
in  the  north,  over  mountain  chains  and  deserts,  besides  the 
strategic  difficulty  of  getting  it  to  the  proper  place 
without  the  rebels  or  bandits  seizing  it.  After  that, 
there  is  the  further  possibility  of  the  officers  putting  it  in 
their  own  pockets.  What  wonder  that  “Juan  and  Jose” 
sell  their  rifles  and  ammunition  or  go  over  to  the  rebels, 
where  looting  is  permitted  and  encouraged?  They  are 
always  hungry,  no  matter  what  are  the  intentions  and 
desires  of  the  central  government. 

Telegrams  from  the  north  are  very  contradictory,  and 
generally  unfavorable  to  the  government.  The  foreign 
correspondents  were  warned  this  morning,  by  a note 
from  the  Foreign  Office  (and  it  was  to  be  the  last  warn- 
ing), that  they  were  not  to  send  out  false  reports  favor- 
able to  the  rebels  and  redounding  to  the  injury  of  both 
foreigners  and  Federals.  They  will  get  the  famous 
“33”  applied  to  them,  if  they  don’t  “walk  Spanish.” 
No  joking  here  now;  much  depends,  psychologically,  if 
not  actually,  on  the  issues  at  Torreon. 

The  clever  editor  of  the  Mexican  Herald  remarks, 
apropos  of  the  Presidential  message  of  last  week : * ‘ Our 
idea  of  a smart  thing  for  Carranza  to  do  would  be  to 
read  President  Huerta’s  message  to  Villa.  The  array  of 
things  a President  has  to  worry  about,  besides  war  and 
confiscation,  are  enough  to  remove  the  glamour.” 

All  Villa  knows  about  revenue  is  embodied  in  the 
word  loot.  Even  in  this  fertile  land,  where  every  moun- 
tain is  oozing  with  gold,  silver,  and  copper,  and  every 
seed  committed  to  the  earth  is  ready  to  spring  up  a 
hundredfold,  he  who  neglects  to  plant  and  dig  can’t 
reap  or  garner.  The  whole  north  is  one  vast  devasta- 
tion and  invitation  to  the  specters  of  famine 

256 


XX 


Good  Friday  — Mexican  toys  with  symbolic  sounds — “The  Tampico 
incident” — Sabado  de  Gloria  and  Easter — An  international  photo- 
graph — The  last  reception  at  Chapultepec. 

Viernes  Santo  Afternoon. 

AS  I came  home  from  church  this  morning  the  sacred 
day  seemed  to  be  a day  of  noise.  The  Indians  were 
busy  in  their  booths  along  the  Alameda.  Thousands  of 
small,  wooden  carts  are  bought  by  thousands  of  small 
boys  and  girls;  metracas,  they  are  called,  and  so  con- 
structed that,  in  addition  to  the  usual  noise,  every  revo- 
lution of  the  wheels  makes  a sound  like  the  breaking  of 
wood.  This  noise  is  supposed  to  typify  the  breaking  of 
the  bones  of  Judas.  There  are  also  appalling  tin  objects, 
like  nutmeg-graters,  that  revolve  on  sticks,  with  the 
same  symbolic  sound.  Little  boys  and  girls  outside  the 
churches  sell  pious  leaflets,  crying  in  their  shrill  voices, 
“Las  siete  palabras  de  nuestro  Sehor  Jesus  Christo,”  or 
“El  pesame  de  nuestra  Schora  Madre  de  Dios” 

Something  is  brewing  here,  and  it  was  with  a heart 
somewhat  perturbed  by  earthly  happenings  that  I again 
went  to  the  cathedral,  at  three  o’clock.  At  the  doors 
the  little  venders  of  the  holy  words  were  as  insistent  as 
ever.  Thousands  were  filing  in  and  out,  going  up  with 
whatever  burden  of  babe  or  bundle  they  happened  to  be 
carrying,  to  kiss  the  great  cross  laid  on  the  steps  of  the 
high  altar.  I bethought  me  of  last  Good  Friday  in 
Rome,  and  of  hearing  Father  Benson  preach  the  “Three 
Hours”  at  San  Sylvestro. 

257 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 

April  10th.  Good  Friday  Night. 

Events  succeed  each  other  in  kaleidoscopic  fashion  in 
Latin  America,  but  I have,  at  last,  a moment  in  which 
to  tell  you  of  the  especial  turn  to-day. 

This  morning  N.  was  informed,  through  the  Foreign 
Office,  of  something  referred  to  as  “the  Tampico  inci- 
dent.” The  Foreign  Office  was  decidedly  in  the  air  about 
it.  On  returning  home,  at  one  o’clock,  however,  N. 
found  a very  definite  telegram  from  Admiral  Fletcher, 
and  there  is  sure  to  be  trouble.  * * * 

N.  took  the  penciled  reading  and  dashed  off  to  find 
Huerta.  Potential  war  lies  in  any  incident  here.  He  was 
away  all  the  afternoon,  hunting  Huerta,  but  only  found 
him  at  six  o’clock.  Huerta’s  written  answer  was  in  the 
usual  clever,  Latin-American  manner;  his  verbal  re- 
marks on  the  subject  to  a foreigner  were  beyond  editing. 
The  newspaper  men  were  coming  in,  all  the  afternoon, 
and  were  disappointed  not  to  find  the  “source  of  light 
and  heat.” 

5|C 

The  final  touch  was  put  on  the  nerves  of  everybody 
by  Elim’s  dragging  his  metraca  about  the  halls.  With 
howls  of  protestation  he  was  separated  from  it. 

N.  said  he  might  possibly  have  arranged  the  matter 
except  for  the  little  Sub-Secretary,  who  had  never  met  the 
President  before,  and  who  wanted,  all  during  the  inter- 
view, to  prove  he  was  very  much  of  a man.  Portillo  y 
Rojas  is  away  for  the  Easter  holidays.  At  the  Presi- 
dent’s door  a big,  sullen  Indian  told  N.  he  could  not  see 
the  President,  who  was  taking  a siesta.  As  N.  could  not 
entirely  follow  the  injunction  about  sleeping  dogs,  he 
compromised  on  a little  tour,  returning  to  find  the 
President  about  to  get  into  his  motor.  He  asked  N. 
to  come  with  him,  which  N.  did,  sitting  by  his  side,  the 

258 


THE  SIESTA 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


secretary  facing  them  on  the  strapontin.  N.  told  the 
President  he  had  something  “very  delicate”  (“un  asunto 
muy  delicado ”)  to  speak  to  him  about.  The  President 
made  one  of  his  waving  gestures,  and  the  ball  opened. 
Huerta  said  he  would  apologize  for  “the  Tampico 
incident.”  N.  indicated  that  his  government  would 
not  consider  that  sufficient.  Huerta  asked,  squarely: 
“What  do  you  want?”  N.  answered,  “The  salutes,” 
saying  he  might  arrange  the  matter  quietly,  giving 
the  salutes  some  morning  at  sunrise,  for  instance.  The 
President  began  to  ponder  the  matter;  whereupon  the 
secretary,  thinking  his  chance  had  come,  broke  in  upon 
the  silence  with  the  remark  that  it  would  be  derogatory 
to  the  national  honor  to  salute,  and  that  there  was  no 
guarantee  that  the  salutes  would  be  returned,  that 
Mexico’s  sovereignty  was  in  question,  and  the  like. 
The  President  immediately  stiffened  up. — So  can  a no- 
body turn  a nation’s  destinies! 

a|c  3fC3|C5|C3|C9{CS|C3iC 

There  is  talk  of  providing  a neutral  zone  in  Tampico 
during  the  fighting.  Every  time  an  oil-tank  is  damaged, 
not  only  are  several  hundred  thousand  dollars  gone,  but 
there  is  immense  danger  of  the  oil  flowing  down  the  river 
and  being  set  fire  to.  You  can  imagine  the  result  to  the 
shipping  in  the  harbor,  as  well  as  to  the  town. 

It  is  now  ten  o’clock;  the  answer  of  Huerta  has  been 
sent  off  to  the  State  Department  and  to  Admiral  Fletcher. 
Many  newspaper  men  have  interviewed  Nelson,  and  he 
has  gone  up-stairs.  These  days  of  delicate  negotiations — 
when  a word  too  much  or  a word  too  little  would  make 
trouble — are  wearying,  to  say  the  least.  But  so  is  fame 
made.  * * * It  seemed  to  me  the  only  thing  I didn't  do 
to-day  was  to  buy  an  imitation  devil,  also  representing 
Judas,  of  which  thousands  in  clay,  in  cardboard,  in  every 
conceivable  form,  are  offered  on  every  street  comer. 

259 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


Sabado  de  Gloria. 

To-day  the  papier-mache  “Judases”  were  burned,  on 
the  street  corners,  to  the  great  joy  of  children  and 
adults,  while  cannon  and  torpedoes  and  firecrackers  of 
all  kinds  made  things  rather  noisy.  I remembered  again 
the  old  Roman  days,  and  the  quiet  of  Holy  Saturday, 
“hidden  in  the  tomb  with  Christ.” 

There  is  going  to  be  a lot  of  trouble  about  the  Tampico 
incident.  The  “Old  Man”  is  recalcitrant  and  feels  that 
the  public  apology  by  General  Zaragoza  should  be 
sufficient.  What  we  will  do  can  only  be  surmised. 
Recently,  one  of  the  newspapers  had  a cartoon  of  Mr. 
Bryan  speaking  to  “Mexico.”  Under  the  picture  was 
this  pleasing  caption,  “I  may  say,  I am  most  annoyed; 
and  if  you  do  not  immediately  reform,  I hesitate  to  say 
what  I may  not  be  inclined  to  decide,  perhaps!” 


Easter  Sunday  Morning. 

A heavenly  sky  looks  down  on  the  Resurrection  morn, 
and  it  is,  indeed,  the  resurrection  of  a good  many  Mexi- 
cans who,  these  last  days,  have  spilled  their  life’s  blood 
for  reasons  unknown  to  them.  The  Sub-Secretary  for 
Foreign  Affairs  spent  the  night  hour  from  two  to  three 
with  Nelson.  The  Mexican  government  does  not  want 
to  salute  the  flag,  though,  of  course,  it  will  have  to  yield 
to  our  demand.  Fighting  continues  at  Tampico.  The 
American  war-ships  are  crowded  with  unfortunate  ref- 
ugees, and  there  is  increasing  animosity  against  the 
Americans.  General  Zaragoza  has  expressed  official  re- 
gret at  the  arrest,  but  the  salute  to  the  flag  has  been 
postponed. 

Nelson  has  already  been  twice  to  the  Foreign  Office. 
He  told  the  sub-secretary  to  tell  the  President  the  salute 
must  De  given.  He  has  looked  up  precedents  in  the 
international-law  books  at  the  Embassy,  to  soothe  their 

260 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 

feelings,  their  cultura  and  bizarna.  If  the  sub-secretary 
says  that  Huerta  still  persists  in  refusing,  N.  is  going1 
to  try  a personal  appeal.  It  is  a salute  or  intervention, 
I suppose. 

It  appears  that  Mr.  Bryan  has  said  he  can  see  no 
reason  why  the  Mexican  government  should  not  “cheer- 
fully salute,”  and  “that  doubtless  the  church  holidays 
have  interfered  with  the  transaction  of  business.”  Is  it 
the  end,  or  not?  Quien  sabef 

April  1 2th.  5 p.m. 

A written  reply,  very  clever  indeed,  was  received  at 
one  o’clock,  refusing  categorically  to  give  the  desired, 
or  rather,  demanded , salute  of  twenty-one  guns,  at  Tam- 
pico. The  Mexicans  say  that  the  whaleboat  landed  at 
a part  of  the  town  then  in  the  military  zone,  and  with- 
out permission;  that  fighting  was  going  on  at  the  time; 
that  the  city  was  under  martial  law.  The  men  had  been 
sent  in  to  get  gasoline  for  the  ship  with  the  paymaster 
(usually  it  is  only  a petty  officer  who  accompanies  the 
men  on  such  errands).  The  reply  ends  with  an  acuerdo 
especial  (especial  message)  from  Huerta  to  the  effect  that 
he  could  not  comply  with  the  United  States’  demands 
without  wounding  Mexico’s  national  honor  and  dignity 
and  infringing  on  her  sovereignty,  which  he  is  ready  to 
defend  at  all  times  and  in  all  ways.  Now  what  are  we 
going  to  do?  The  clerks  have  been  working  like  mad 
all  day,  and  endless  cables  have  gone  out  of  the  Embassy. 
Nelson  says  he  will  not  go  to  Huerta,  though  when  we 
passed  Chapultepec  restaurant,  coming  from  the  Re- 
forma Club  near  by,  where  we  had  been  lunching,  he 
saw  the  President’s  motor,  and  got  out  of  our  car  and 
strolled  through  the  restaurant,  to  give  Huerta  a chance 
to  speak,  if  he  was  so  minded,  without  seeking  him 
out.  However,  Huerta  was  dining  with  the  officers  of 
the  rural  guard,  and  Nelson  left  immediately.  Huerta 
18  261 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


had  been  at  the  automobile  races  all  the  morning,  we, 
in  our  Anglo-Saxon  preoccupation,  having,  of  course,  for- 
gotten about  them.  The  situation  is  again  very  tense; 
again  war  and  destruction  loom  up — a specter  to  us,  as 
well  as  to  this  strange  Indian  republic  that  we  are  trying 
to  mold  to  our  image  and  likeness. 

Nelson  has  told  all  newspaper  men  that  he  gives  no 
information  to  any  one;  that  he  is  a “dry  spring,”  and 
that  they  must  cable  to  their  home  offices  for  news.  As, 
since  nine-thirty,  there  has  been  the  strictest  censorship, 
they  won’t  get  or  give  much;  Even  the  Embassy  cables 
were  delayed  until  Nelson  went  to  the  office  and  made 
his  arrangements. 

The  white  pony  and  the  Mexican  saddle  that  the 
President  has  asked  to  present  to  Elim,  fortunately,  have 
not  appeared.  You  can  imagine  the  juicy  dish  of  news 
that  gift  would  make  at  home!  Refusal  or  acceptance 
would  be  equally  delicate. 

April  ijth.  Evening. 

No  news  has  come.  I wonder  what  they  did  in  Tam- 
pico at  six  o’clock.  A very  insistent  note  has  come  from 
the  Foreign  Office,  recounting,  I think  for  the  first  time, 
Mexico’s  many  grievances  against  us — troubles  caused 
by  the  raising  of  the  embargo  and  the  consequent 
supplying  of  arms  to  the  rebels;  claiming  the  Federals’ 
right  to  conduct  the  fight  at  Tampico  any  way  they  see 
fit ; saying  that  they  will  tolerate  no  interference  in  their 
national  affairs,  etc.  We,  having  armed  the  rebels,  can 
hardly  take  exception  to  the  Federals’  defending  them- 
selves. They  insist  that  the  whaleboat  of  the  Dolphin 
was  on  forbidden  territory  when  the  men  were  arrested, 
but  the  statement  is  not  official.  Washington  is  to-day 
either  finding  a way  out  of  the  affair  or  looking  into  the 
grim,  cold  eyes  of  intervention. 

I had  an  Easter-egg  hunt  in  the  garden,  for  Elim,  at 

262 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


which  nine  little  darlings  assisted.  Then  we  had  tea, 
with  many  flashes  of  Spanish  wit.  All  the  foreign  children 
here  prefer  to  speak  Spanish.  The  mothers  and  other 
ladies  left  at  six,  after  which  the  French  military  attach 6, 
de  Bertier,  and  Letellier,  came  in,  and  we  talked  Mexi- 
cana  till  eight.  De  Bertier  said  this  was  the  second  most 
interesting  situation  he  had  ever  watched.  The  first  was 
the  beginning  of  the  French  power  in  Morocco — that 
clear  flame  of  French  civilization,  at  first  trembling  and 
uncertain,  in  the  deserts  and  mountains  of  North  Africa, 
but  ever  increasing,  carried  to  the  Arabs,  a “race  pure,” 
by  a handfvd  of  brave  and  dashing  soldiers,  also  of  a 
“race  pure.”  He  finds  the  problem  much  more  com- 
plicated in  Mexico,  where  a salade  of  races  is  involved. 

April  14th.  2 p.m. 

This  morning,  like  so  many  mornings  here,  had  its  own 
special  color.  Nelson  had  not  seen  Huerta  since  the 
interview  on  Friday  night,  about  the  saluting  of  the 
flag.  We  drove  out  to  Chapultepec,  where,  before  the 
restaurant  steps,  the  usual  petit  lever  was  being  held — • 
generals,  Cabinet  Ministers,  and  other  officials.  Nelson 
went  over  to  the  President,  while  the  motor,  with 
Clarence  Hay  and  myself  in  it,  retreated  out  of  the  blaz- 
ing sun  under  the  shade  of  some  convenient  and  beauti- 
ful ahuahuetes.  From  afar  we  saw  the  President  get  out 
of  his  motor  and  Nelson  go  up  to  him;  then  both  walked 
up  the  broad  stairs  of  the  restaurant.  In  a few  minutes 
Ramon  Corona,  now  chief  of  staff,  walked  quickly  over 
to  our  motor. 

“I  come  from  the  President  to  ask  you  to  go  to  the 
‘fiesta  militar  in  the  Pereda  cuartel,”  he  said.  The 
President  took  Nelson  in  his  motor,  I following  in  ours, 
with  Corona.  Hay  vanished  from  the  somewhat  com- 
plicated situation.  I got  to  the  barracks  to  find  that  we 

263 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


were  the  only  foreigners,  and  I the  only  lady  on  the 
raised  dais  (where  generals  and  Cabinet  Ministers  were 
even  thicker  than  at  Chapultepec),  to  watch  the  various 
exercises  the  well-trained  gendarme  corps  gave  for  the 
President.  They  are  for  the  moment  without  horses,  the 
lack  of  which  is  a great  problem  here.  We  watched  the 
various  steps,  drills,  and  exercises  for  a couple  of  hours 
with  great  interest,  I sitting  between  Corona  and  charm- 
ing young  Eduardo  Iturbide,  the  present  governor  of  the 
Federal  district.  It  is  wonderful  what  those  Indians 
did,  having  been  gathered  in  only'during  the  last  month. 
I told  one  or  two  little  stories  of  things  I had  seen  in 
Berlin  and  Rome.  You  remember  how  the  raw  recruits 
used  to  pass  Alsenstrasse  on  the  way  to  those  big 
barracks,  just  over  the  Spree — great,  hulking,  awk- 
ward, ignorant  peasants  who  after  six  weeks  could 
stand  straight,  look  an  officer  in  the  eye,  and  answer 
“Yes”  or  “No”  to  a question.  The  Italian  story 
was  one  once  told  me  by  a lieutenant  who  had  been 
drilling  some  recruits  back  of  the  Pamfili-Doria  Villa. 
After  several  weeks’  instruction,  he  asked  a man, 
“Who  lives  over  there?”  pointing  to  the  Vatican. 
“I  don’t  know,”  was  the  answer.  He  called  another 
man,  who  responded,  promptly,  “The  Pope.”  The  of- 
ficer, much  encouraged,  asked  further,  “What  is  his 
name?”  “Victor  Emmanuele,”  was  the  unhappy  re- 
sponse. This  last  story  especially  appealed  to  the  offi- 
cers. They  told  me  their  greatest  difficulty  is  to  get  any 
kind  of  mental  concentration  from  the  Indians. 

The  exercises  finally  came  to  an  end,  with  the  Police 
Band — one  of  the  finest  I have  ever  heard — playing  the 
waltz  tune  of  “Bachimba,”  composed  in  honor  of  Hu- 
erta’s great  victory  when  fighting  for  Madero  against 
Orozco.  Huerta  gave  me  his  arm  and  we  went  in  to  an 
elaborate  collation — champagne,  cold  patts,  and  sweets 

264 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


— I sitting  on  the  President’s  right.  Huerta  then  made 
a speech  that  seemed  as  if  it  might  have  come  from  the 
lips  of  Emperor  William,  on  the  necessity  of  discipline, 
and  the  great  results  therefrom  to  the  country.  He  said 
that  when  the  country  was  pacified  the  almost  countless 
thousands  of  the  army  would,  he  hoped,  return  to  the 
fields,  the  mines,  the  factories,  stronger  and  better  able  to 
fight  the  battle  of  life  for  having  been  trained  to  obedi- 
ence, concentration,  and  understanding.  When  the  speech 
was  over,  and  all  the  healths  had  been  drunk  (mine  com- 
ing first!),  the  President  gave  the  sign  and  I turned  to 
leave.  We  were  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  flower- 
laden horseshoe  table,  and  I moved  to  go  out  by  the 
side  I had  come  in.  He  stopped  me. 

“No,  senora,”  he  said,  “never  take  the  road  back  — 
always  onward.  Adelante.” 

Repeating,  "Adelante I took  the  indicated  way. 
As  we  went  down  the  steps  and  into  the  patio  we  found 
four  cameras  ready,  about  three  yards  in  front  of  us! 
I felt  that  Huerta  was  rather  surprised,  and  I myself 
stiffened  up  a bit,  but — what  could  “a  perfect  lady”  do? 
It  wras  not  the  moment  for  me  to  flinch,  so  we  stood  there 
and  let  them  do  their  worst.  I could  not  show  him  the 
discourtesy  of  refusing  to  be  photographed — but  here, 
on  the  edge  of  war,  it  was  a curious  situation  for  us 
both.  Well,  the  censura  can  sometimes  be  a friend; 
the  photograph  won’t  be  in  every  newspaper  in  the  States 
to-morrow.  If,  in  a few  days,  diplomatic  relations  are 
broken  off,  that  w'ill  be  an  historic  photograph. 

The  Old  Man  is  always  delightful  in  his  courtesy  and 
tact.  As  for  his  international  attitude,  it  has  been  flaw- 
less. On  all  occasions  where  there  has  been  any  mistake 
made  it  has  been  made  by  others,  not  by  him.  His 
national  political  attitude  has  perhaps  left  “much  to  be 
desired,”  though  I scarcely  feel  like  criticizing  him  in 

265 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


any  way.  He  has  held  up,  desperately  and  determinedly, 
the  tattered  fabric  of  this  state  and  stands  before  the 
world  without  a single  international  obligation.  Who 
has  done  anything  for  him?  Betrayed  at  home  and 
neglected  or  handicapped  abroad,  he  bears  this  whole 
republic  on  his  shoulders. 

5-JO  P.M. 

I am  trembling  with  excitement.  On  getting  out  of 
the  motor,  I met  Hyde,  of  the  Herald.  He  has  just  had 
a telegram  (the  real  sense  made  clear  by  reading  every 
other  word — thus  outwitting  the  censor)  that  the  whole 
North  Atlantic  fleet  was  being  rushed  to  the  Gulf,  and 
that  a thousand  marines  were  being  shipped  from  Pensa- 
cola. Hyde  says  that  Huerta  said  to-day,  “Is  it  a ca- 
lamity? No,  it  is  the  best  thing  that  could  happen 
to  us!” 

I hear  Hohler’s  voice  in  the  anteroom.  * * * 

April  14th.  6.30  p.m. 

Burnside  and  Courts  came  in  just  after  Hohler,  and 
the  inevitable  powwow  on  the  situation  followed.  Bum- 
side  says  we  all  have  the  Mexico  City  point  of  view,  and 
perhaps  we  have.  Hohler  was  very  much  annoyed  at  a 
hasty  pencil  scrawl  just  received  from  the  north,  in- 
forming him  that  Villa  had  confiscated  many  car-loads  of 
British  cotton  and  that  many  cruelties  to  Spaniards  had 
been  committed  in  connection  with  it.  Certainly  there 
is  not  much  “mine  and  thine,”  in  the  Constitutionalist 
territory,  and  not  much  protection.  Here  property  and 
life  are  respected. 

There  is  a report  that  Huerta  wants  to  send  the  “Tam- 
pico incident”  to  The  Hague  for  settlement.  He  in- 
sists that  he  was  in  the  right  about  the  matter,  and  that 
any  impartial  tribunal  would  give  him  justice.  Be  that 
as  it  may,  we  know  he  must  give  the  salutes.  It  only 

?66 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


remains  for  him  to  find  the  way.  Cherchez  la  formule,  if 
not  la  femme. 

April  15th. 

Another  day,  full  to  exhaustion,  and  winding  up  with 
the  reception  at  Chapultepec.  There,  while  the  Presi- 
dent and  N.  were  conferring,  we,  the  sixty  or  seventy 
guests — Mexicans,  plenipotentiaries,  officials,  civil  and 
military — waited  from  six  o’clock  until  long  after  seven 
to  go  in  to  tea,  or  “lunch,”  as  they  call  it  here.  Beyond 
occasional  glances  at  the  closed  doors,  no  impatience  was 
manifested.  All  know  these  are  the  gravest  and  most 
delicate  negotiations.  We  whiled  away  the  time  on  the 
palm-banked  terrace,  listening  to  the  music  of  a band  of 
rurales,  who  made  a picturesque  mass  in  their  orange- 
colored  clothes  embroidered  in  silver,  with  neckties  so 
scarlet  that  they  were  almost  vermilion,  and  great,  peak- 
ed, white  felt  hats,  with  a heavy  cord  around  the  crown 
of  the  same  color  as  the  flaming  cravats.  They  sat  in 
one  corner  of  the  great  terrace,  playing  their  national 
music  most  beautifully — dances  full  of  swing,  or  melan- 
choly and  sensuous  airs  of  the  people,  on  zithers,  mando- 
lins, guitars,  harps,  and  some  strange,  small,  gourd-like 
instruments  played  as  one  would  play  on  a mandolin. 

At  last  the  President  and  N.  came  in,  looking  inscru- 
table. No  time  to  ask  results  now.  The  President  gave 
his  arm  to  me,  and  he  then  wanted  N.  to  take  in  Madame 
Huerta ; but  the  chef  du  protocol  headed  off  this  rather 
too-close  co-operation,  saying  that  was  the  place 
of  the  Russian  minister.  I talked  to  Huerta  to  the  limit 
of  my  Spanish,  with  pacific  intent,  but  he  kept  glancing 
about  in  a restless  way.  I even  quoted  him  that  line  of 
Santa  Teresa,  “La  paciencia  todo  lo  alcanza.”  He 
asked  me,  abruptly,  what  I thought  of  his  international 
attitude,  and  before  I could  reply  to  this  somewhat 
difficult  question  he  fortunately  answered  it  himself. 

267 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


“Up  to  now,”  he  said,  “I  have  committed  no  faults,  I 
think,  in  my  foreign  policy;  and  as  for  patience,  I am 
made  of  it.”  He  added,  “I  keep  my  mouth  shut.” 
I changed  the  subject,  too  near  home  for  comfort,  by 
telling  him  that  his  speech  of  yesterday,  to  the  troops, 
might  have  been  made  by  the  Emperor  of  Germany. 
I thought  that  would  send  his  mind  somewhat  afield; 
you  know  he  loves  Napoleon,  and  would  be  willing  to 
include  the  Kaiser.  He  brightened  up  and  thanked  me 
for  the  compliment,  in  the  way  any  man  of  the  world 
might  have  done.  . . . It  is  a curious  situation.  I have 
all  the  time  a sickening  sensation  that  we  are  destroying 
these  people  and  that  there  is  no  way  out.  We  seem  to 
have  taken  advantage  of  their  every  distress. 

We  hurried  away  at  eight  o’clock,  so  that  N.  might 
see  Courts  at  the  station,  and  give  him  the  summary  of 
his  conversation,  to  be  repeated  to  Admiral  Fletcher. 
It  was  that  Huerta  would  be  willing  to  give  the  salutes 
if  he  could  trust  us  to  keep  our  word  about  returning 
them.  As  he  certainly  has  no  special  reason  for  any 
faith  in  our  benevolence,  he  finally  stipulated  that  the 
twenty-one  salutes  be  fired  simultaneously.  N.  said  he 
was  very  earnest  and  positive  during  the  first  part  of  the 
conversation,  but  that  toward  the  end  he  seemed  more 
amenable.  Heaven  alone  knows  how  it  will  all  end. 
One  thing  is  certain — it  is  on  the  lap  of  the  gods  and  of 
Huerta,  and  the  issue  is  unknown  to  the  rest  of  us. 

I got  home  from  the  station  to  find  Mrs.  Burnside 
in  the  drawing-room,  ready  to  spend  the  evening.  The 
captain  was  down-stairs,  with  what  he  afterward  char- 
acterized as  “blankety  blanks”  (willing,  but  unmechani- 
cal civilians),  who  were  helping  him  to  set  up  the  rapid- 
firing  guns,  otherwise  known  as  the  “doves  of  peace.” 
Mrs.  Burnside  tried  to  persuade  me  to  go  to  Vera  Cruz 
to-morrow,  when  she  departs,  but  I couldn’t,  in  con- 

268 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


science,  cause  a probably  unnecessary  stampede  of  people 
from  their  comfortable  homes.  If  I had  taken  advan- 
tage of  the  various  opportunities  held  out  to  flee,  I would 
have  had,  in  common  with  many  others,  an  uncomfort- 
able winter  & cheval  between  Mexico  City  and  the  “Villa 
Rica  de  la  Vera  Cruz.” 

I don’t  know  what  answer  has  been  made  to  the 
Hague  proposition,  if  any,  by  Washington;  but  it  must 
have  staggered  Mr.  Bryan  and  caused  him  to  blink. 
The  Hague  is  one  of  the  dearest  children  of  his  heart,  and 
universal  peace  has  ever  been  a beloved  and  fruitful 
source  of  eloquence.  When  it  confronts  him  at  this  spe- 
cial moment,  can  he  do  otherwise  than  take  it  to  his 
bosom  ? 

• April  16th. 

This  morning  things  seemed  very  bad.  A curious  tel- 
egram came  from  Mr.  Bryan,  to  be  given  to  the  press 
for  its  private  information,  not  yet  for  publication,  say- 
ing that  the  Tampico  incident  was  quite  in  the  back- 
ground, but  reciting  two  recent  and  heinous  crimes  of 
Mexico.  First,  a cable  for  the  Embassy  was  held  over  by 
a too-zealous  partisan  of  the  censura  at  the  cable-office. 
N.  arranged  that  matter  in  two  minutes,  over  the  tel- 
ephone, when  it  was  brought  to  the  attention  of  the 
cable  authorities.  Hohler  happened,  for  Mexico’s  good, 
to  be  with  N.  at  the  time.  The  incident  was  less  than 
nothing,  until  mentioned  in  the  open  cable  from  Wash- 
ington. The  other  incident,  also  well  enough  known, 
happened  a short  time  ago  in  Vera  Cruz,  where  another 
too-zealous  official  arrested  an  orderly  in  uniform,  carry- 
ing the  mails  between  the  ships  and  the  Vera  Cruz  post- 
office.  That  matter  was  dismissed  after  an  apology,  a 
nominal  punishment  of  the  offending  official,  and  the 
immediate  release  of  the  carrier.  Admiral  Fletcher  at- 
tached no  importance  to  the  affair. 

269 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


I have  not  cited  the  incidents  in  order.  The  telegram 
for  the  press,  in  referring  to  the  cable  incident,  begins, 
“far  more  serious  is  the  withholding  by  the  censor  of  a 
cable  addressed  to  the  charge  d'affaires  of  the  United 
States.”  It  also  points  out  that  no  like  incidents  have 
happened  to  the  representatives  of  other  nations  in  Mex- 
ico, and  that  we  must  protect  our  national  dignity — to 
which  I respond  with  all  my  heart.  But  when  we  do 
intervene  here — which  I know  we  must — let  it  be  for 
some  vital  case  of  blood  and  destruction.  The  day 
Huerta  has  a stroke  of  apoplexy,  gets  a knife  in  his  back, 
or  is  killed  by  a firing-squad,  we  must  come  in,  for 
anarchy  will  reign.  He  may  not  be  the  best  man  in  the 
world,  and  clever  and  even  profound  thoughts  of  one 
day  are  counterbalanced  by  ineptitudes  of  the  next; 
but  he  does  seem  to  be  the  only  man  in  Mexico  who  can 
and  will  keep  order  in  the  provinces  under  his  control, 
especially  now  that  the  best  and  most  conservative  el- 
ements are  associated  with  the  task — Rincon  Gaillardo, 
Iturbide,  Garcia  Pimentel,  and  many  others. 

Not  a word  of  all  the  happenings  of  the  past  few  days 
has  appeared  in  any  newspaper  in  Mexico.  The  great 
potentialities  are  hidden,  like  a smoldering,  unsus- 
pected fire.  There  is  a throbbing,  an  unrest — but  the 
great  public  doesn’t  yet  know  whence  it  comes. 
I think  if  N.  has  any  luck  in  his  pacific  endeavors  he 
ought  to  have  the  Nobel  prize — though  I understand 
his  chef  direct  has  an  eye  on  that. 

April  17th. 

Last  night  N.  was  with  the  Minister  for  Foreign  Affairs 
for  several  hours.  They  finally  tracked  Huerta  to  his 
house.  The  orderly  said  he  had  gone  to  bed,  but  the 
Minister  sent  in  his  card.  After  a wait  of  half  an  hour 
he  sent  in  another.  Huerta  had  forgotten  that  he  was 
waiting.  He  received  him  in  bed,  and  in  the  midst  of  the 

Z70 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


conversation  asked  him,  as  he  afterward  told  N.,  what 
he  thought  about  his  pajamas,  adding,  with  a grin,  that 
they  were  Japanese.  Nelson  did  not  go  in.  He  had 
spent  several  hours  with  the  President  at  various  times 
during  the  day,  and  did  not  want  to  see  him  about  pain- 
ful and  irritating  matters  at  such  a late  hour,  when  he 
and  the  President  were  worn  out. 

In  thinking  over  Huerta’s  remark,  a few  days  ago, 
about  the  demonstrations  of  our  fleet  not  being  a calam- 
ity, I believe  he  means  that  this  is,  after  all,  the  best  way 
of  consolidating  the  Federal  troops.  We  may  stiffen  them 
to  service  of  their  country  against  a common  enemy — 
but,  oh,  the  graft!  Oh,  the  dishonesty  and  self-seeking 
that  animate  many  of  the  hearts  beating  under  those 
uniforms!  They  sell  anything  and  everything  to  the 
highest  bidder,  from  automobile  tires  and  munitions  of 
war,  to  their  own  persons.  As  for  punishing  the  vari- 
ous officers  that  are  guilty,  it  seems  very  difficult; 
court-martials  would  mean  the  decamping  to  the  rebels 
of  many  officers,  high  and  low.  So  when  we  demand 
punishment  of  this  or  that  official,  the  “Old  Man”  is 
placed  between  the  devil  and  the  deep  sea.  It  is  a posi- 
tion he  should  now  be  accustomed  to,  however.  On 
spies  or  on  those  conspiring  against  the  government  he 
is  relentless.  That  all  political  colors  recognize,  and  they 
do  not  hold  it  against  him.  Apropos  of  going  over  to  the 
rebels,  the  Mazatlan  incident  of  last  Christmas  (or  Jan- 
uary first)  is  a case  in  point.  The  officers  on  the  gun- 
boat Tampico  in  the  harbor  had  a scandalous  debauch, 
with  stabbings,  etc.  They  were  to  be  court-martialed, 
but  they  got  out  of  that  difficulty  by  going  over,  boat 
and  all,  to  the  Constitutionalists  at  Topolobampo! 


XXI 


Mr.  Bryan  declines  the  kindly  offices  of  The  Hague — More  Americans 
leave  Mexico  City — Lieutenant  Rowan  arrives — Guarding  the  Em- 
bassy— Elim  keeps  within  call. 


ASHINGTON  will  not  take  The  Hague  into  con- 


sideration, and  will  not  fire  simultaneous  salutes, 
which,  of  course,  it  would  be  childish  for  us  to  do,  so  the 
question  is  narrowed  down  to  one  point: — the  Mexicans 
must  salute  our  flag,  and  we  engage  ourselves  to  answer 
it.  Many  precedents  for  this  are  being  cited  by  foreigners 
here.  For  instance,  the  celebrated  case  of  the  French 
consul  in  San  Francisco,  who  was  jailed  for  a few  hours 
through  a mistake.  We  made  all  reparation  and  en- 
gaged ourselves  to  fire  twenty-one  salutes  to  the  first 
French  ship  that  came  into  the  harbor.  Kanya  tells  me 
of  an  incident  that  transpired  when  he  was  charge  d'af- 
faires at  Cettinje,  that  was  regulated  by  an  exchange  of 
salutes  between  the  contending  parties,  in  Antivari 
harbor. 

I have  had  calls  all  afternoon — German,  Belgian, 
Austrian,  and  Italian  colleagues,  Marie  Simon,  de  Soto 
(looking  more  like  a handsome  contemporary  of  Ve- 
lasquez than  ever) — all,  of  course,  talking  about  la 
situacion.  Now  I am  waiting  dinner  for  Nelson,  who 
has  been  out  since  four  o’clock,  trying  to  communicate 
the  very  courteous,  but  firm,  answer  of  Washington 
cited  above. 


April  iyth. 


272 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


Later. 

N.  came  in  for  dinner  as  the  Burnsides,  d’Antin,  and 
McKenna  were  sitting  with  me  at  table.  One  of  the 
numerous  telephone  calls  proved  to  be  from  the  Minister 
for  Foreign  Affairs,  saying  that  he  was  leaving  the  Minis- 
terio,  and  would  be  immediately  at  the  Embassy.  I had 
cognac  and  cigarettes  placed  in  the  drawing-room,  and 
then  everybody  got  out  of  the  way.  They  are  both  in 
there  now — 9.45 — and  the  fate  of  Mexico  hangs  in  the 
balance,  in  that  pleasant,  high-ceilinged  salon  of  mine, 
with  the  big  vases  of  long-stemmed  pink  geraniums,  and 
books,  and  photographs,  and  bibelots,  and  its  deep, 
comfortable  green  leather  chairs  and  sofa.  I am  writing 
this  in  one  of  the  smaller  rooms,  with  newspaper  men 
running  in  and  out,  and  the  telephone  ringing.  To  the 
journalistic  demands  Nelson  has  told  the  clerks  to  say 
“there  is  no  change,”  which,  in  spite  of  my  excitement, 
or  perhaps  because  of  it,  reminds  me  of  the  story  re- 
counted of  a Russian  Ambassador  to  London.  His  wife 
had  the  bad  taste  to  die  at  the  time  of  the  great  visit  of 
the  Czar  to  Queen  Victoria.  The  Ambassador,  who  was 
above  everything  a diplomat,  had  the  body  put  on  ice  in 
the  cellar  of  the  Embassy,  and  to  all  inquiries  as  to  his 
wife’s  health  he  replied,  suavely:  “Thank  you;  madame 
is  in  the  same  condition.” 

11.30. 

Back  in  the  drawing-room,  with  the  historic  cognac, 
the  equally  historic  cigarette  ash,  and  the  drawn-up 
chairs  as  mute  witnesses  that  something  has  taken 
place.  What  will  come  of  it  all?  Rocking  the  ship  of 
state  is  an  exciting  business.  I don’t  understand  Huerta’s 
attitude,  unless  he  is  whipped  by  the  rebels,  and  knows 
it,  and  prefers  defeat  at  the  hands  of  a nobler  foe. 

Portillo  y Rojas  said  the  President  felt  that  he  had  done 
all  that  he  was  called  on  to  do  as  chief  of  the  nation  to 

273 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


expiate  the  Tampico  incidents;  that  the  sailors  were 
put  at  liberty  immediately,  with  an  apology  given  by 
the  jefe  de  la  plaza — General  Moreles  Zaragoza — to 
Admiral  Mayo;  that  since  then  the  President  himself 
had  manifested  regret  and  had  ordered  an  investigation 
to  punish  the  guilty  party ; that  any  nation  in  the  world 
would  have  been  satisfied  by  these  proceedings,  and  that 
furthermore  he  agreed  that  the  Mexican  cannon  might  sa- 
lute simultaneously  with  those  of  the  Americans,  which 
would  fully  show  the  good-will  on  both  sides,  and  also 
let  the  neighboring  peoples  witness  the  happy  termina- 
tion of  a difficulty  that  had  never  been  serious.  There  is 
a Spanish  proverb  about  having  more  fins  than  a fish, 
which  certainly  applies  to  this  sauve  and  clever  old 
Indian.  He  further  sent  expressions  of  great  friendship 
for  Nelson  by  the  Minister,  but  said  he  couldn't  do  this 
thing  even  for  him,  much  as  he  desired  to. 

A moment  ago  a little  blond-headed,  blue-robed, 
sleepy  angel  appeared  on  the  scene  to  ask  when  I was 
coming  up-stairs.  Perhaps,  like  the  rest  of  us,  Elim 
feels  the  disturbing  electric  currents  in  the  air.  He  is 
now  lying  on  the  sofa,  wrestling  with  sleep.  He  had  been 
put  to  bed  some  hours  before,  rather  unhappily.  He 
kept  pressing  close  to  my  dressing-table  as  I was  getting 
ready  for  dinner,  fingered  every  article  on  it,  and 
asked  me  countless  questions.  These  ranged  from, 
“What  does  God  eat?”  to,  “Why  don’t  women  wear  sus- 
penders?” until  I was  frantic  and  had  him  removed  in 
tears. 

There  are  fears  that  the  Zapatistas  will  arrive  in  the 
city;  but  they  are  nothing  compared  to  other  fears 
that  stalk  the  town  to-night.  During  the  French  in- 
tervention many  people  remained  in  Mexico  City, 
reached  a ripe  old  age,  and  died  in  their  beds;  which 
every  one  seems  anxious  to  do,  though  I have  never  felt 

274 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


that  dying  in  one’s  bed  is  all  it  is  cracked  up  to  be. 
“Bury  me  where  I fall.  Everywhere  will  be  heard  the 
judgment  call.”  I don’t  much  care  when  or  where  or  how 
it  comes. 

April  iSth.  4.30  p.m. 

No  news  as  yet  from  Washington.  I have  just  re- 
turned after  lunching  at  the  Russian  minister’s.  Every- 
thing was  very  soignt,  as  it  always  is,  with  blinis  and 
delicious  caviar  and  all  sorts  of  good  things.  I feel  as 
if  I had  eaten  the  Legation  instead  of  at  it.  One  has 
so  little  appetite  at  eight  thousand  feet  above  sea-level. 
There  were  von  Hintze,  Kanya,  Marie  Simon,  in  one  of 
her  smart  Drecoll  dresses,  and  myself.  They  all  think 
the  situation  in  the  south  is  very  bad,  but  I am  no  more 
to  be  scared  by  the  cry  of  Zapatistas,  having  heard  it 
ever  since  I first  put  foot  in  Mexico. 

The  Mexican  Herald  remarks  this  morning  (dealing 
with  the  situation  in  glittering  generalities)  that  “When 
each  party  to  an  agreement  gets  the  idea  that  the  other 
side  is  going  to  back  down,  it  is  certainly  trying  to  the 
patience  of  an  Irish  peacemaker.” 

One  of  the  great  dust-storms  of  the  end  of  the  dry 
season  is  on  us  to-day;  all  the  color  is  gone  out  of  the 
air,  which  has  become  opaque,  gritty,  non-refracting. 

<5.  jo. 

Callers  all  the  afternoon.  Now  McKenna  comes  in 
to  say  that  the  final  word,  en  clair,  from  Washington 
has  been  received.  It  was  given  out  at  the  White  House 
at  noon.  “General  Huerta  is  still  insisting  upon  doing 
something  less  than  has  been  demanded,  and  something 
less  than  could  constitute  an  acknowledgment  that  his 
representatives  were  entirely  in  the  wrong  in  the  indig- 
nities they  have  put  upon  the  United  States.  The 
President  has  determined  that  if  General  Huerta  has 

275 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


not  yielded  by  six  o’clock  on  Sunday  afternoon,  he 
will  take  the  matter  to  Congress  on  Monday.” 

******* 

It  makes  me  sick  with  dread  to  think  of  the  probable 
fate  of  Americans  in  the  desert  spaces  and  the  mountain 
fastnesses  of  Mexico.  Some  one  has  blundered,  some- 
where, somehow,  that  we  should  come  in  to  give  the 
coup  de  grdce  to  this  distracted  nation,  who  yet  clings, 
and  rightly,  to  those  tattered  shreds  of  sovereignty  we 
have  left  her.  The  foreign  Powers  think  we  are  playing 
the  most  cold-blooded,  most  cruel  game  of  “grab”  in  all 
history. 

April  1 8th.  io  p.m. 

Things  do  move.  I came  down  from  Aunt  Laura’s  room 
to  find  Lieutenant  Rowan  in  the  hall,  just  off  the  train 
from  Vera  Cruz,  after  a delayed,  dusty  trip.  You  can  im- 
agine he  got  a warm  welcome.  Nelson  came  in  just  then, 
and  a few  minutes  later,  as  we  were  still  standing  in  the 
front  hall,  Portillo  y Rojas  appeared  at  the  door,  looking, 
we  instantly  thought,  much  happier.  He  was  wearing  his 
green,  gold-embroidered  sash,  the  insignia  of  military 
rank  that  Huerta  has  imposed  rather  than  bestowed  on 
all  Cabinet  officers,  who  are  thus  under  military  disci- 
pline and  obedience  to  him  as  generalissimo.  They  ob- 
jected to  wearing  full  military  uniform,  compromising 
on  the  sash.  Rojas  also  wore  a smile — I don’t  know 
whether  it  was  for  me  or  for  the  situation.  He  had  come 
to  tell  Nelson  that  the  salutes  would  be  given  on  his, 
N.’s,  written  word  of  honor  that  they  would  be  returned. 
He  has  been  an  hour  and  a half  in  Nelson’s  private  room 
drawing  up  a document — a protocol  ( il  y va  de  sa  propre 
idle) — and  he  is  doing  it  with  the  painstaking  care  of  a 
man  who  has  everything  at  stake.  Nelson  himself  is 
pretty  foxy,  and  has  to  look  out  for  his  skin.  Well, 
“all’s  well  that  ends  well.”  If  we  get  through  this  the 

276 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


next  incident  will  mean  war.  I hope  at  Washington 
they  will  appreciate  some  of  the  difficulties  N.  has  to 
meet,  and  act  accordingly.  However,  “call  no  man 
happy  until  his  death.”  I hear  the  click  of  the  big  iron 
gate  swinging  to  after  the  exit  of  Lopez  Portillo  y Rojas. 

I am  fairly  tired  out  and  shall  now  proceed  to  draw  the 
drapery  of  my  couch  about  me  and  lie  down — I hope  to 
pleasanter  dreams  than  those  of  last  night.  How  glad 
I am  that  I haven’t  confided  my  son  or  my  jewels 
to  various  terror-stricken  acquaintances  who  have  le- 
vanted two  hundred  and  fifty  miles  east  and  eight  thou- 
sand feet  down.  It  hasn’t  come  yet ; all,  after  everything 
is  said  and  done,  hangs  on  the  life  of  that  astute  and  pa- 
tient old  Cori  Indian,  whose  years  of  our  Lord  are  fifty- 
nine,  and  who,  whatever  his  sins,  were  they  blacker 
than  night,  is  legally  President  of  Mexico.  Chase 
legality  out  of  Latin  America  and  where  are  you  ? After 
him  anarchy,  chaos,  and  finally  intervention — the  biggest 
police  job  ever  undertaken  in  the  Western  Hemisphere, 
however  one  may  feel  like  belittling  it  from  a military 
standpoint.  I have  thought  all  these  days  of  the  prob- 
able head-lines  of  the  newspapers  and  hoped  my  precious 
mother  was  not  worrying  about  her  distant  ones.  Good 
night,  and  then  again  good  night.  “God’s  in  His  heaven; 
all’s  well  with  us.” 

April  19th.  11.30  p.m. 

The  last  of  the  continuous  line  of  plenipotentiaries, 
charges  d'affaires,  railroad  men,  laymen  of  all  kinds,  have 
gone.  Washington  refused  Nelson’s  signature  to  the 
protocol  drawn  up  by  Portillo  y Rojas  and  sent  for  ap- 
proval. Huerta  then  refused  categorically  to  give  the 
salutes.  So  it  is  intervention.  At  4.30  I went  down- 
stairs for  tea,  as  usual,  to  find  Adatchi  and  Eyguesparsse 
there.  Eyguesparsse,  as  you  know,  married  the  sister 
of  General  Rincon  Gaillardo.  He  says  that  Huerta 
19  277 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


will  resist  to  the  end;  his  esprit  militaire  is  entirely  op- 
posed to  the  esprit  universitaire  of  Wilson.  “Ils  ne  pour- 
ront  jamais  se  comprendre.”  Huerta  said  to  Rincon 
Gaillardo  that  intervention  would  be  a work  of  five  years, 
and  productive  of  the  greatest  trouble  to  the  United 
States.  Huerta’s  stand  is  incroyable,  unglaublich  unbe- 
lievable, incredibile — what  you  will.  Each  representative 
who  called  exclaimed  the  same  thing  in  his  special  tongue 
as  he  greeted  me.  Hohler  was  very  quiet,  and  really  very 
sad  at  the  happenings.  He  has  been  a faithful  friend 
through  everything.  Sir  Lionel  gets  here  to-morrow  or 
the  next  day.  Kanya,  Letellier,  and  Clarence  Hay 
stayed  for  dinner.  Hohler  came  back  again  in  the  eve- 
ning, also  von  Hintze,  who  does  not  think  the  war  vote 
will  go  with  a rush  through  Congress  to-morrow,  and 
quotes  the  case  of  Polk.  He  said  it  took  three  months 
for  him  to  persuade  Congress  to  vote  the  money  and 
men  for  the  1846  war.  I can’t  verify  this.  He  and 
von  Papen  left  at  eleven.  Nelson,  Rowan,  and  I came 
up-stairs,  all  a bit  fagged.  To-morrow  will  be  a full  day. 
I long  ago  promised  the  American  women  here  that  if 
and  when  I thought  the  break  was  impending  I would 
let  them  know.  I think  it  has  steadied  their  situation 
here  that  I haven’t  “lit  out”  from  time  to  time.  But 
what  of  the  hundreds — no,  thousands — all  over  this  fair 
land  whose  possible  fate  is  scarcely  to  be  looked  in  the 
face  ? The  ‘ ‘ Old  Man  ’ ’ has  some  idea  other  than  despair 
and  fatigue  or  impatience.  He  is  working  on  a plan, 
probably  hoping  for  a chance  to  play  his  trump  card — 
the  unification  of  all  Mexicans  to  repel  the  invaders, — 
which  would  take  the  trick  anywhere  but  in  Mexico. 
We  are  going  to  get  some  more  gendarmes  for  the  Em- 
bassy. I feel  very  calm  and  deeply  interested.  It  is  a 
big  moment,  and  Nelson  has  been  unremitting  in  his  en- 
deavors. 


278 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


The  Foreign  Office  here  has  given  the  press  a state- 
ment of  two  thousand  words  to-night,  which  will  bring 
forth  dismay  and  horror  in  the  morning.  I can’t  feel 
the  personal  danger  of  the  situation.  I am  sorry  dear  Dr. 
Ryan  is  away.  I sent  him  yesterday,  in  care  of  the 
consul  at  Saltillo,  the  prearranged  word,  “ioi,”  which 
meant  that,  whenever,  wherever,  he  got  it,  he  was  to  re- 
turn immediately.  At  last  hearing,  the  more  prudent 
von  Papen,  who  decided  to  return  to  Mexico  City,  saw 
him  start  from  Saltillo  with  his  medical  supplies  and 
four  mules,  to  try  to  get  to  Torreon  over  a desert  stretch. 

Von  Papen,  who  had  a most  uncertain  trip,  says  the 
only  way  to  prevent  the  continual  destruction  of  the 
railways  is  the  establishment  of  the  blockhouse  system 
now  planned  by  the  Federal  government. 

2.30  A.M. 

I can’t  sleep.  National  and  personal  potentialities 
are  surging  through  my  brain.  Three  stalwart  railroad 
men  came  to  the  Embassy  this  evening.  They  brought 
reports  of  a plan  for  the  massacre  of  Americans  in  the 
street  to-night,  but,  strange  and  wonderful  thing,  a 
heavy  rain  is  falling.  It  is  my  only  experience  of  a mid- 
night rain  in  Mexico,  except  that  which  fell  upon  the 
mobs  crying  “Death  to  Diaz,”  nearly  three  years  ago. 
As  all  Mexicans  hate  to  get  wet,  rain  is  as  potent  as 
shell-fire  in  clearing  the  streets,  and  I don’t  think  there 
will  be  any  trouble.  Providence  seems  to  keep  an  occa- 
sional unnatural  shower  on  hand  for  Mexican  crises. 

N.’s  secret-service  man  reappeared  upon  the  scene  yes- 
terday, probably  by  the  President’s  orders.  This  works 
two  ways.  It  protects  N.,  and  incidentally  proves  to 
Huerta  that  N.  is  not  intriguing  against  him. 

Had  this  war  been  induced  by  a great  incident  or  for 
a great  principle,  I could  bear  it.  But  because  the  de- 
tails of  a salute  could  not  be  decided  upon  we  give  our- 

279 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


selves,  and  inflict  on  others,  the  horrors  of  war.  Mr. 
Bryan,  so  the  Herald  playfully  remarks  to-day,  must 
have  been  surprised  and  disappointed.  The  “salutes 
were  always  so  cheerfully  returned  at  Chautauqua.” 
It  is  no  situation  for  amateurs.  The  longer  I live  the 
more  respect  I have  for  technical  training.  Every  For- 
eign Office  in  Europe  or  any  other  continent  keeps  ex- 
perts for  just  such  cases.  I may  become  an  interven- 
tionist, but  after  Huerta.  He  has  proved  himself  vastly 
superior,  in  executive  ability,  to  any  man  Mexico  has 
produced  since  Diaz,  in  spite  of  his  lack  of  balance  and 
his  surprising  childishness,  following  upon  strange  sub- 
tleties, and  he  would  have  sold  his  soul  to  please  the 
United  States  to  the  point  of  recognition.  In  that  small, 
soft  hand  (doubtless  bloody,  too)  were  possibilities  of  a 
renewal  of  prosperity,  after  the  dreams  of  Madero  that 
he  himself  could  never  have  clothed  in  reality.  The  re- 
association of  the  government  with  the  conservative  el- 
ements might  have  given  some  guarantee  of  peace,  at 
least  during  Huerta’s  life,  and  any  man’s  life  is  a long 
time  in  an  Indian  or  Latin  republic. 


April  20th.  io  a.m. 

We  have  awakened  to  a busy  morning.  At  seven 
o’clock  I began  to  telephone  all  those  women.  If  any- 
thing happens,  American  women  here  will  be  thankful  to 
be  out  of  the  way,  and  if  the  clouds  blow  over,  they  will 
only  have  done  what  they  have  done  before,  on  several 
occasions — taken  an  unnecessary  trip  to  Vera  Cruz. 
Every  American  in  town  has  either  appeared  at  the  Em- 
bassy or  telephoned.  Rowan  remains  with  us,  I hope. 
N.  has  telegraphed  Admiral  Fletcher  that  in  view  of  the 
fact  that  he  is  alone  with  me  at  the  Embassy,  he  begs  not 
to  have  Rowan  recalled.  He  is  a dear  fellow,  and  a great 
comfort  and  support.  Anything  his  courage  and  good 

280 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


sense  can  keep  from  happening  to  us  will  not  happen. 
A cable  saying  the  matter  will  be  laid  before  Congress 
this  afternoon,  instead  of  this  morning,  is  just  received. 
It  gives  us  a breathing-space.  But  the  telephone!  The 
newspaper  men ! The  frightened  Americans ! If  we  are 
obliged  to  go,  Aunt  Laura  will  stay  with  Mrs.  Melick, 
that  friend  of  hers  who  has  a handsome  house  just  across 
the  way.  This  relieves  both  her  and  me  from  anxiety. 
Americans  are  leaving  in  hosts — about  five  hundred  per- 
sons, of  all  nationalities,  leave  to-day. 

I have  just  found  on  my  table  an  envelope,  “From 
Elim  to  Mamma.”  A drawing  inside  represents  a tomb- 
stone, and  a star  shines  above  it.  It  has  a little  bunch 
of  fresh  heliotrope  fastened  to  it  with  a clipper,  and  the 
back  is  decorated  with  three  crosses — a bit  startling  in 
these  potential  days!  My  heart  is  sick.  Wednesday 
that  great  fleet  arrives.  What  is  it  going  to  fight?  It 
can’t  bombard  Vera  Cruz.  The  streets  are  full  and  the 
houses  overflowing  with  fleeing  non-combatants.  It 
can’t  climb  the  mountains  and  protect  the  countless 
Americans  getting  their  living  in  the  fastnesses  or  in  the 
valleys.  Huerta’s  army  is  engaged  in  the  death-struggle, 
in  the  north,  against  enemies  of  the  government,  armed 
with  our  munitions.  Oh,  the  pity  of  it! 

And  this  city,  this  beautiful  city,  placed  so  wonder- 
fully, so  symmetrically,  on  the  globe,  in  the  very  center 
of  the  Western  Hemisphere,  a great  continent  to  north 
and  south,  half-way  between  immense  oceans,  and  lifted 
nearly  eight  thousand  feet  up  to  the  heavens!  Strange, 
symbolic  correspondences  between  the  seen  and  the  un- 
seen constantly  make  themselves  sensible,  in  some  unex- 
plainable, magic  way,  while  to  the  eye  there  are  the  man- 
ifold abundancies  of  mother  earth,  and  this  queer,  dark, 
unchanging,  and  unchangeable  race,  whose  psychological 
formula  is  unknown  to  us,  inhabiting  and  using  it  all. 

28 1 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


April  20th.  7.30. 

This  afternoon  a whirlwind  of  rumors.  First,  that 
Congress  had  voted  full  power  to  Mr.  Wilson,  and  one 
hundred  and  fifty  million  dollars;  that  Vera  Cruz  was  be- 
ing bombarded;  that  an  attack  is  being  planned  against 
the  Embassy  to-night.  There  is,  doubtless,  nothing  in 
this  last,  but  N.  telephoned  to  Eduardo  Iturbide,  always 
to  be  counted  on,  who  is  sending  us  one  hundred  mounted 
gendarmes.  Captain  Burnside  is  coming  over  here  to 
sleep,  and  Rowan  is  with  us,  besides  secret-service  men 
and  our  own  gendarmes.  We  have  machine-guns,  rifles, 
and  quantities  of  ammunition.  Many  people  were  in  for 
tea,  when  I am  always  to  be  seen.  Madame  Simon  ex- 
pects to  leave  to-night  for  Vera  Cruz,  with  her  little  boy 
and  two  maids.  Clarence  Hay  and  the  Tozzers  are  go- 
ing, too,  and  about  one  hundred  Germans.  Von  Hintze 
has  sent  away  as  many  men,  women,  and  children  as  he 
could  induce  to  go. 

I had  a curious  experience  with  Adatchi.  Suddenly, 
as  he  was  sitting  on  the  sofa,  drinking  his  tea,  von  Papen 
and  Ayguesparsse  also  in  the  room,  I had  a queer* 
psychic  impression  that  he  was  not  speaking  of  what  he 
was  thinking.  I thought  no  more  of  it  until  he  came  over 
to  a chair  near  me  and  said,  with  a curious,  Oriental 
smile : 

“I  had  a talk  with  Portillo  y Rojas,  this  afternoon. 
All  is  not  yet  lost.  I have  left  my  secretaries  working  on 
a long  telegram  to  Tokio.” 

I asked:  “You  mean  there  may  be  a possible  arrange- 
ment?” 

And  he  said,  “Yes,”  without  enlarging  on  it.  N.  is  out, 
calling  on  Iturbide  to  thank  him  for  the  guard,  and 
Adatchi  returns  at  nine-thirty.  After  he  left,  I told 
Ayguesparsse  and  von  Papen  what  Adatchi  had  said. 

Ayguesparsse  said,  “His  government  would  naturally 

282 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


favor  the  Mexicans.”  And  we  all  wondered  if  the  Japs 
could  have  worked  out  an  arreglomiento . The  Japanese 
mentality  is,  of  course,  absolutely  foreign  and  irreconcil- 
able to  ours,  but  it  is  not  a negligible  quantity.  Aygue- 
sparsse  has  been  very,  very  nice  all  these  days,  and  I realize 
that  behind  that  elegant  silhouette  there  is  a man  of 
poise  and  kindness.  Scarcely  had  he  and  von  Papen 
departed  when  Hohler  came  in,  hoping  still  for  some 
arrangement.  In  this  dark  hour  every  one  of  the  col- 
leagues has  shown  himself  sincerely  desirous  of  some 
issue  being  found.  So  you  have  a little  of  my  day,  full 
of  a thousand  other  things.  Many  people  have  urged 
me  to  depart  with  them,  but  I am  not  nervous,  not 
afraid.  I am  no  trouble  to  N.,  perhaps  even  some  help; 
and  certainly  dignity  and  all  manner  of  fitness  demand 
that  I remain  here  with  him  till  he  gets  his  papers,  if  he 
gets  them,  and  go  off  suitably  at  the  time  appointed  by 
our  country,  or  the  country  to  which  we  are  accredited. 
My  leaving  now  would  mean  to  the  Americans  here  that 
all  was  lost — even  honor,  I should  add.  Elim  has  not 
been  far  out  of  sight  to-day.  He  was  warned,  and  the 
gendarmes  and  everybody  in  the  house  warned,  that  he 
was  not  even  to  look  out  of  the  gate ; and,  scenting  pos- 
sible danger,  he  has  not  wandered  far  afield.  He  climbs 
into  my  chair,  trots  after  me,  looks  in  at  the  door — he 
has  no  intention  of  being  out  of  call  if  suddenly  wanted. 
His  little  senses  are  alert,  and  he  knows  that  all  is  not 
quiet  on  the  plateau. 

April  2 ist. 

Instead  of  an  attack,  last  night,  everything  was  very 
peaceful.  The  automobile  squad,  composed  of  willing 
and  capable  Americans,  circled  continually  about  the 
Embassy,  as  well  as  the  guard  of  one  hundred  mounted 
gendarmes  Eduardo  Iturbide  sent  us.  A bare  message 
came  from  Washington,  very  late,  saying  that  Congress 

283 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


had  voted  the  President  full  powers.  The  details  we 
will  doubtless  get  this  morning.  The  Ypiranga,  of  the 
Hamburg-American  Line,  arrives  at  Vera  Cruz  to-day, 
with  seventeen  million  rounds  of  ammunition  for  Huerta, 
which  will  greatly  complicate  matters.  I do  not  know  if 
we  are  going  to  seize  it  or  not.  If  we  do,  it  is  an  acte  de 
guerre,  and  we  will  be  out  of  here  on  short  notice.  If 
one  were  convinced  of  the  good-will  of  Washington,  this 
whole  incident  could  be  arranged  in  five  minutes.  The 
Mexican  Foreign  Office  published  this  morning  the  full 
text  of  the  documents  on  the  Tampico  incident.  The 
officials  feel  there  is  nothing  to  conceal,  and  the  diplo- 
mats and  every  American  in  town  have  by  now  lapped 
up  with  their  coffee  all  the  secrets  of  the  situation. 


XXII 


Vera  Cruz  taken — Anti- American  demonstrations — Refugees  at  the  Em- 
bassy— A long  line  of  visitors — A dramatic  incident  in  the  cable- 
office — Huerta  makes  his  first  and  last  call  at  the  Embassy. 

April  21  st.  12.30. 

NELSON  has  been  informed  through  Mexican  sources 
— a most  embarrassing  way  to  get  the  news — that 
Vera  Cruz  was  taken  by  our  ships  at  eight  o’clock  this 
morning.  (Cortes  landed  on  April  21st,  if  I am  not  mis- 
taken, though,  of  course,  that  isn’t  much  help  to  us  now!) 
The  line  from  Mexico  City  to  Vera  Cruz  has  been  blown 
up.  I am  so  worn  out  that  I wouldn’t  mind  seeing  even 
the  Zapatistas  climbing  in  at  the  windows.  Aunt  Laura 
has  been  sitting  by  my  bed,  wearing  that  pale-blue 
woolen  jacket  you  sent  me.  She  feels,  after  all  these 
decades  of  Tehuantepec,  a chill  even  in  these  lovely 
days.  The  situation  she  will  find  herself  in  after  we  go 
appalls  me,  but  she  is  determined  to  remain.  All  these 
years  she  has  watched  the  increasing  glories  and  securi- 
ties of  Don  Porfirio’s  Mexico.  One  could  go  unarmed 
from  the  Rio  Grande  to  Gautemala.  Now,  when  the 
years  begin  to  press  upon  her,  she  is  caught  up  and 
ruined  by  present-day  Mexican  uncertainties,  or  rather, 
certainties.  One  knows  one  will  lose  everything  one  has 
here. 

N.  just  looked  in  at  the  door  to  say  we  may  have  to 
leave  via  the  Pacific  (Manzanillo  and  San  Francisco). 
Well,  it  is  all  in  the  hands  of  the  Lord.  Some  time,  some 
way,  we  are  destined  to  be  recalled  from  Mexico  City. 

285 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


I wonder  what  Huerta  is  thinking  of  doing  this  morn- 
ing. Will  the  situation  weld  together  his  divided  peo- 
ple? I am  thankful  not  to  be  among  the  hundreds — no, 
thousands — without  bank  accounts  in  New  York,  Chi- 
cago, Boston,  or  other  places,  who  are  being  packed  like 
sardines  on  transports  for  “home.”  These  are  the  real 
tragedies  of  the  situation  to  us,  though  I can’t  help 
thinking  of  the  Mexican  side.  Several  hundred  thou- 
sand men,  women,  and  children  have  been  killed  in  vari- 
ous ways  since  Madero  started  for  Mexico  City — Ameri- 
can gunners  manning  his  guns. 

April  2 1 st.  5 o'clock. 

No  news  from  Washington  to-day.  We  might  all  be 
massacred.  It  is  due  to  the  essential  meekness,  want  of 
national  spirit,  want  of  whatever  you  will  in  the  Mexi- 
cans, that  we  are  not,  not  because  a paternal  government 
is  watching  over  its  public  servants  in  foreign  parts. 
I have  sent  out  for  a good  supply  of  candles ; the  lights 
might  be  cut  to-night  by  some  Zapatista  band.  We  all 
wonder  why  Huerta  hasn’t  cut  the  railroad  to  Vera 
Cruz.  Why  doesn’t  he  make  things  a bit  nasty  for  us? 

8 P.M. 

A word  from  my  sofa,  where  I am  resting  in  my  purple 
Paris  draperies.  We  have  had  a long  line  of  visitors. 
Ayguesparsse  was  the  first,  and  so  nice  and  sympathetic. 
With  his  Mexican  wife  he  does  not  find  himself  in  an 
easy  position.  His  family-in-law  has  made  many  and 
real  sacrifices  for  La  Patria  and  the  Huerta  government. 
Three  men,  expert  machinists,  are  having  their  dinners 
down-stairs,  having  set  up  the  Gatling-guns  under  Burn- 
side’s instructions.  I have  provided  pulque,  tortillas, 
jrijoles,  and  cigarettes  for  countless  gendarmes.  We  are 
ten  at  dinner,  and  perhaps  twenty  have  been  in  for  tea. 
There  has  been  an  anti-American  demonstration  at 

286 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


Porter’s  Hotel,  where  the  very  clever  woman  journalist 
I mentioned  before  is  staying.  She  will  sleep  here  to- 
night, in  Ryan’s  room.  The  landlady  of  Porter’s  is  also 
coming,  and  they  will  have  to  take  friendly  turns  in 
a single  bed.  About  twenty  extra  persons  are  sleeping 
here.  We  hear  nothing  from  Washington  direct.  Al- 
gara,  the  Mexican  charge,  has  been  recalled.  N.  saw 
Huerta  this  afternoon,  who  begged  him  not  to  go.  We 
can  no  longer  cable,  though  the  other  legations  can  send 
what  they  like  to  Washington  via  their  various  European 
chanceries.  No  trains  are  going  out  to-night  nor  this 
morning.  Three  of  the  many  Pullmans,  loaded  with  men, 
women,  and  children,  which  started  yesterday  for  Vera 
Cruz,  have  not  yet  arrived  there.  We  understand  there 
was  fighting  along  the  road. 

Rowan  is  being  more  than  nice,  but  I think  he  is  rather 
longing  for  the  baptism  of  fire  that  might  be  his,  were 
he  in  Vera  Cruz. 

After  dinner  McKenna  came  to  tell  us  that  there  were 
three  car-loads  of  women  and  children  outside  the  Em- 
bassy gate.  They  had  to  come  in,  of  course,  and  be 
attended  to. 

Nelson  saw  Huerta  to-day  at  his  house.  The  Presi- 
dent said  to  him,  very  brusquely:  “You  have  seized  our 
port.  You  have  the  right  to  take  it,  if  you  can,  and  we 
have  the  right  to  try  to  prevent  you.  Su  Excelencia  el 
Senor  Presidente  Wilson  has  declared  war,  unnecessarily, 
on  a people  that  only  ask  to  be  left  alone,  to  follow  out 
their  own  evolution  in  their  own  way,  though  it  may  not 
seem  to  you  a good  way.”  He  added  that  he  would  have 
been  willing  to  give  the  salutes,  but  that  the  incident 
was  only  a pretext.  In  three  weeks  or  three  months,  he 
said,  it  would  have  been  something  else;  that  we  were 
“after  him,”  or  the  Spanish  to  that  effect. 

I think  his  real  idea  is  to  form  the  Mexicans  into  one 

287 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


camp  against  the  foreign  foe.  He  does  not  want  Nelson 
to  go,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  Algara  has  been  recalled. 
We  have  no  intimation,  as  yet,  of  our  leaving.  Mr. 
Bryan  has  stated  that  he  instructed  Mr.  O’Shaughnessy 
to  see  Huerta  and  ask  him  to  keep  the  roads  open  to 
facilitate  the  getting  out  of  refugees.  We  are  asking 
favors  to  the  end.  N.  had  not  seen  the  President  for 
several  days  and  did  not  know  in  what  disposition  he 
would  find  him.  But  Huerta  took  his  hand  and  greeted 
him,  saying,  “ Como  estd,  amigo?”  (“How  are  you, 
friend?’’).  He  might  have  been  going  to  play  some 
Indian  trick  on  him.  I begged  Rowan  to  go  with  N., 
and  he  waited  in  the  automobile  while  N.  had  the  in- 
terview. 

Later. 

We  are  at  war.  American  and  Mexican  blood  flowed 
in  the  streets  of  Vera  Cruz  to-day.  The  tale  that 
reaches  us  is  that  the  captain  of  the  Ypiranga  tried  to 
land  the  seventeen  million  rounds  of  ammunition.  Ad- 
miral Fletcher  expostulated.  The  captain  of  the  Ypi- 
ranga insisted  on  doing  it,  and,  as  we  were  not  at 
war,  he  was  within  his  international  rights.  The 
admiral  prevented  him  by  force,  and,  they  say,  in  order 
to  justify  the  action  imposed  on  him  by  Washington,  took 
the  town— thus  putting  us  on  a war  basis.  Whether  this 
is  a true  version  of  what  has  happened  I don’t  know.  It 
does  not  sound  like  Admiral  Fletcher,  but  he  may  have 
had  definite  orders  from  Washington.  Von  Hintze  came 
in  this  afternoon.  He  minimized  the  incident,  or  rather, 
seemed  to  minimize  it,  but  I could  see  that  he  was  very 
much  preoccupied.  It  may  be  a source  of  other  and  gra- 
ver complications  than  those  of  Mexico.  It  has  been 
many  a year  since  American  blood  flowed  in  the  streets 
of  Vera  Cruz.  General  Scott  took  it  in  1847.  The  end- 
less repetitions  of  history ! 

288 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


II  P.M. 

As%  I write,  a mob,  rather  inoffensive,  is  howling  out- 
side, waving  Mexican  flags  and  exhorting  in  loud  voices. 
I can’t  hear  anything  from  the  window  except  something 
about  Vivan  los  Japoneses,  and  a few  remarks  not  flatter- 
ing to  los  Gringos.  There  are  many  good  and  capable 
Americans,  willing,  ready,  and  able  to  second  any  use 
of  the  guns.  N.  and  Rowan  have  gone  down  to  the  cable- 
office  to  try  and  send  off  something  to  Washington.  The 
silence  of  our  government  remains  unbroken.  Sir  Lionel 
came  back  this  morning.  He  is  soon  to  go  to  Rio. 
How  beautifully  England  treats  her  diplomats!  In- 
stead of  removing  him,  last  autumn,  when  the  row  was 
on,  our  press  campaign  against  him  caused  his  superiors 
to  bide  their  time,  but  it  must  be  a great  trial  to  Sir  L. 
to  be  removed  at  so  critical  a moment  to  another  post 
which,  though  bigger  and  better  paid,  is  not  of  the 
imminent  importance  of  this. 

April  22d. 

The  wedding  mom  of  thirteen  years  ago!  And  we 
are  in  Mexico,  in  full  intervention!  The  troops  can’t 
get  up  from  Vera  Cruz  by  rail,  as  the  Mexicans  got 
away  with  all  the  locomotives  when  the  town  was  taken. 
That  beautiful  plan  of  Butler’s  ...  I understand  that 
he  is  in  Tampico,  with  his  marines,  and  the  other  ma- 
rines are  only  due  to-day  in  Vera  Cruz.  It  will  take 
three  weeks,  even  without  resistance,  for  them  to  march 
up  with  their  heavy  equipment. 

At  12.30  last  night  N.,  who  had  gone  to  bed  and  to 
sleep,  after  a more  than  strenuous  day,  was  called  to  the 
telephone  by  the  excited  consul-general,  who  had  had 
the  United  States  shield  tom  off  the  Consulate,  and  other 
indignities  offered  the  sacred  building,  including  window- 
breaking by  the  mob.  N.  wonders  if  Huerta  will  try  to 
keep  him  here  as  a hostage.  Huerta  told  N.  that  he 

289 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


intends  to  take  our  arms  away,  and,  of  course,  there  is 
no  way  of  keeping  them  if  he  decides  to  do  so.  We  have 
certainly  trampled  on  the  treaty  of  Guadalupe.  Hidalgo 
after  1848,  providing  that  all  disputes  should  be  sub- 
mitted first  for  arbitration.  So  sing  me  no  songs  of 
treaty  rights! 

We  heard  last  night  that  the  Zapatistas  were  to  unite 
with  Huerta.  It  would  be  interesting  and  curious  to  see 
a “Mexico  united”  on  any  point.  If  those  bandits  come 
out  of  their  barrancas  and  mountains  and  do  to  the 
Americans  half  the  evil  they  work  on  one  another,  there 
will  be  many  a desolate  mother,  wife,  sister,  and  sweet- 
heart north  of  the  Rio  Grande.  N.  says  we  may  get  off 
to-morrow  morning.  No  night  trips.  Yesterday  Carden 
and  von  Hintze  tried  to  get  Huerta  to  arrange  for  the 
despatching  of  a refugee  train  to  leave  not  later  than 
seven  this  morning,  but  why  he  should  do  that,  or 
anything  for  any  one,  unless  it  falls  in  with  his  own 
plans,  I don’t  see.  It  is  curious  that  the  Americans  did 
not  get  hold  of  a few  locomotives.  The  railroad  is  in- 
deed sounding  brass  and  tinkling  cymbals  without  them. 

Every  arm-chair,  sofa,  and  bed  in  the  house  was 
occupied  last  night,  and  many  of  the  inmates  lay  on  the 
floor.  Constantly,  in  the  distance,  sounds  the  beautiful 
Mexican  bugle-call.  The  brass  summons  is  clear  and 
noble,  and  the  drums  beat  to  the  nation’s  pulse — a poor 
thing,  according  to  us,  but  Mexico’s  own.  Where  wall 
it  all  end?  With  the  taking  of  Vera  Cruz,  through  whose 
customs  a full  fourth  of  the  total  imports  come,  Huerta 
is  out  a million  pesos  a month,  more  or  less.  We  are 
certainly  isolating  and  weakening  him  at  a great  rate. 
“Might  is  right.”  We  can  begin  to  teach  it  in  the  schools. 

We  have  heard  nothing  from  Washington,  and  nothing 
from  Vera  Cruz.  Alone  on  our  plateau!  Up  to  now, 
there  are  no  great  anti-American  demonstrations.  I put 

290 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


my  faith  in  Huerta,  in  spite  of  the  feeling  which  Burnside 
expressed,  that  he  might  show  Nelson  an  Indian’s  treach- 
ery. Aunt  Laura  is  game.  It  is  good  fortune  for  her  to 
have  that  comfortable  home  just  across  the  way  to  go  to. 

Something  is  being  prepared  in  town.  To-morrow  we 
may  get  away.  N.  begins  to  feel  that  he  ought  to  be  out 
of  here,  the  Mexican  charge  at  Washington  having  left 
yesterday,  with  the  entire  Embassy  staff.  This  we  learn 
from  the  Foreign  Office  here,  not  from  Washington. 

The  newspapers  are  rather  fierce  this  morning.  One 
head-line  in  the  Independiente  is  to  the  effect  that  “the 
Federal  bullets  will  no  longer  spill  brothers’  blood,  but 
will  perforate  blond  heads  and  white  breasts  swollen 
with  vanity  and  cowardice.”  “Like  a horde  of  bandits 
the  invaders  assaulted  the  three-times  heroic  Vera  Cruz. 
The  brave  costehos  made  the  foreign  thieves  bite  the 
dust  they  had  stained  with  their  impure  blood,”  etc. 
The  newspapers  add  that  the  Americans  landed  “with- 
out a declaration  of  war,  feloniously  and  advantage- 
ously.” “Anathema  to  the  cowardly  mercantile  pro- 
jects of  the  President  of  the  United  States!”  they  shriek. 
They  had  a picture  of  Mr.  Wilson  sitting  on  heaped-up 
money-bags,  Huerta  standing  before  him,  a basket  of 
eggs  on  each  arm.  “The  true  forces  of  the  opponents,” 
this  was  labeled.  It  is  impossible  to  expect  the  Mexicans 
to  seize  the  idea  that  the  landing  of  our  troops  was  a 
simple  police  measure.  In  face  of  the  facts,  such  subtle 
distinctions  will,  I am  sure,  be  overlooked.  “El  suelo 
de  la  patria  estd  conculcado  por  el  invasor  extranjero,”  is 
the  fact  to  them ! I inclose  here  what  the  papers  call  ‘ ‘ el 
manifiesto  laconico  y elocuente  del  Sehor  Presidente  de  la 

Repubhca.”  “ a LA  REPUBLIC  A 

“ En  el  Puerto  de  Veracruz,  estamos  sosteniendo  con  las 
arntas  el  honor  Nacional. 


291 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 

“ El  atentado  que  el  Gobierno  Yanqui  comete  contra  un 
pueblo  libre,  como  es,  ha  sido  y serd  el  de  la  Republica, 
pasard  a la  Historia,  que  pondrd  a Mexico  y al  Gobierno 
de  los  Estados  JJnidos,  en  el  lugar  que  a cada  cual  cor- 
responda.  V.  Huerta .” 


“TO  THE  REPUBLIC 

“ In  the  port  of  Vera  Cruz  we  are  sustaining  with  arms 
the  national  honor. 

“The  offense  the  Yankee  government  is  committing 
against  a free  people,  such  as  this  Republic  is,  has  al- 
ways been,  and  will  ever  be,  will  pass  into  history — 
which  will  give  to  Mexico  and  to  the  government  of  the 
United  States  the  place  each  merits.  V.  Huerta.” 

12.30. 

N.  has  just  come  in  to  say  that  perhaps  we  leave  to- 
morrow for  Guadalajara  and  Manzanillo.  I am  not 
crazy  to  see  the  Pacific  coast  under  these  conditions. 
How  many  uncertain  hours,  wild  mountains,  and  deep 
barrancas  are  between  us  and  the  United  States  men-of- 
war. 

Mr.  Cummings,  chief  of  the  cable-office,  and  all 
his  men  were  dismissed  this  morning,  to  be  replaced  by 
Federals.  A dramatic  incident  occurred  when  he  went 
into  the  office  to  collect  his  money  and  private  papers. 
Finding  himself  for  a moment  alone,  he  quickly  went  to 
the  telegraph  key  and  called  up  Vera  Cruz.  The  oper- 
ator there  answered,  “They  are  fighting  at  the  round- 
house.” There  was  a snap,  and  he  heard  no  more. 
Some  one  was  listening  and  shut  him  off.  That  is  the 
only  authentic  news  we  have  heard  from  Vera  Cruz,  or 
anywhere,  for  two  days.  But  the  wild  rumors  around 
town  are  numberless  and  disquieting.  Nothing  is 
touched  down-stairs.  I don’t  want  to  alarm  people  need- 

292 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


lessly  by  stripping  my  rooms;  and  who  knows  if  we  can 
take  out,  if  and  when  we  go,  more  than  the  strict  neces- 
sities. There  will  always  be  a fair  amount  of  Embassy 
papers,  codes,  etc.,  that  must  go,  whatever  else  is  left. 

10.30  P.M. 

At  five  o’clock  I went  down-stairs  to  my  drawing- 
room— the  matchless  Mexican  sun  streaming  in  at  the 
windows — and  poured  tea.  It  was  the  last  time,  though 
I didn’t  know  it.  Many  people  came  in:  Kanya,  Sta- 
lewslci,  von  Papen,  Marie  Simon,  Cambiaggio,  Rowan, 
de  Soto,  and  others;  de  Bertier  had  gone  to  Tampico. 
No  one  knew  what  was  to  happen  to  us.  Had  we  re- 
ceived our  passports?  Were  we  to  stay  on?  Could  ne- 
gotiations be  reopened?  Each  came  with  another  ru- 
mor, another  question.  The  Cardens  came  in  late,  Sir 
Lionel  very  agitated  over  the  rumors  of  the  Zapatistas 
coming  to  town  to-night.  They  are  supposed  to  have 
joined  with  the  Federals.  It  was  the  first  time  I have 
seen  Sir  L.  since  his  return.  He  seemed  whiter,  paler, 
and  older  than  when  he  went  away.  Then  von  Hintze 
came.  We  talked  of  the  hazy  Vera  Cruz  incident  and 
its  international  bearing,  if  the  captain  of  the  Ypiranga 
had  been  stopped  on  the  high  seas,  before  the  blockading 
of  the  port,  etc. 

There  was  a gleam  in  von  Hintze’s  eye  during  the 
conversation,  answered  by  one  in  mine.  We  were  both 
thinking  that  history  has  a way  of  repeating  itself.  He 
was  von  Dietrich’s  flag-lieutenant  at  Manila,  Rowan’s 
position  with  Fletcher  at  Vera  Cruz.  It  was  he  who 
took  the  famous  message  to  Dewey  and  received  the 
equally  famous  and  emphatic  answer — so  emphatic,  his- 
tory has  it,  that  he  almost  backed  down  the  hatchway 
in  his  surprise.  Thirteen  years  afterward  he  finds  him- 
self in  an  American  Embassy,  discussing  another  marine 
20  293 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


incident  concerning  Germany  and  the  United  States,  an- 
other flag-lieutenant  sitting  by ! 1 

During  all  this  time,  the  Embassy  was  closely  sur- 
rounded by  troops.  Hearing  more  than  the  usual  noise, 
I asked  Rowan  to  see  what  was  going  on.  It  proved  to 
be  a large  squad  of  soldiers  come  to  take  our  arms  and 
ammunition  away — our  sacred  doves  of  peace.  All  was 
done  with  the  greatest  politeness — but  it  was  done! 
Two  hundred  and  fifty  rifles,  two  machine-guns,  seventy- 
six  thousand  of  one  kind  of  ammunition  nine  thousand 
of  another.  It  was  a tea-party,  indeed.  At  half  after 
seven  an  officer  appeared  in  the  drawing-room,  as  von 
Hintze  and  I were  sitting  there  alone,  saying  that  the 
President  was  outside.  Von  Hintze  departed  through 
the  dining-room,  after  hastily  helping  me  and  McKenna 
to  remove  the  tea-table.  There  was  no  time  to  ring  for 
servants.  I went  to  the  door  and  waited  on  the  honey- 
suckle and  geranium-scented  veranda  while  the  tearless 
old  Indian,  not  in  his  top-hat  (“que  da  mas  dignidad"), 
but  in  his  gray  sweater  and  soft  hat,  more  suitable  to 
events,  came  quickly  up  the  steps.  It  was  his  first  and 
last  visit  to  the  Embassy  during  our  incumbency. 

I led  him  into  the  drawing-room,  where,  to  the  accom- 
paniment of  stamping  hoofs  outside,  of  changing  arms, 
and  footsteps  coming  and  going,  we  had  a strange  and 


1 Herr  von  Hintze  began  his  career  in  the  navy  and  before  coming 
to  Mexico  was  for  some  years  the  German  Emperor’s  special  naval  attache 
to  the  Czar  of  Russia,  after  which  he  was  made  Minister  to  Mexico,  with 
the  rank  of  Rear  Admiral.  On  the  outbreak  of  hostilities  in  Europe  he 
left  Mexico,  and  is  now  Minister  in  Pekin.  He  crossed  the  Atlantic  in 
September,  1914,  as  steward  on  a small  ship.  When  he  was  received  by 
the  Emperor  on  his  appointment  to  Pekin,  report  has  it  that  he  said, 
“But,  your  Majesty,  how  am  I to  get  there?”  The  Emperor  replied, 
“As  you  were  able  to  get  from  Mexico  to  Berlin,  you  will  doubtless  be 
able  to  get  from  Berlin  to  Pekin.  Good-by,  and  good  luck  to  you!" 
There  are  fantastic  and  spectacular  tales  of  his  journey  to  China,  in  which 
Zeppelins,  submarines,  and  raiders  figure — E.  O’S. 

294 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


moving  conversation.  I could  not,  for  my  country’s 
sake,  speak  the  endless  regret  that  was  in  my  heart 
for  the  official  part  we  had  been  obliged  to  play  in  the 
hateful  drama  enacted  by  us  to  his  country’s  undoing. 
He  greeted  me  calmly. 

“Senora,  how  do  you  do?  I fear  you  have  had  many 
annoyances.” 

Then  he  sat  back,  quietly,  in  a big  arm-chair,  imper- 
sonal and  inscrutable.  I answered  as  easily  as  I could 
that  the  times  were  difficult  for  all,  but  that  we  were 
most  appreciative  of  what  he  had  done  for  our  personal 
safety  and  that  of  our  nationals,  and  asked  him  if  there 
was  nothing  we  could  do  for  him.  He  gave  me  a long, 
intraverted,  and  at  the  same  time  piercing  look,  and, 
after  a pause,  answered : 

‘‘Nothing,  senora.  All  that  is  done  I must  do  myself. 
Here  I remain.  The  moment  has  not  come  for  me  to  go. 
Nothing  but  death  could  remove  me  now.” 

I felt  the  tears  come  hot  to  my  eyes,  as  I answered 
— taking  refuge  in  generalities  in  that  difficult  moment — 
‘‘Death  is  not  so  terrible  a thing.” 

He  answered  again,  very  quietly,  “It  is  the  natural 
law,  to  which  we  must  all  submit.  We  were  born  into  the 
world  according  to  the  natural  law,  and  must  depart 
according  to  it — that  is  all.” 

He  has  wavy,  interlacing,  but  not  disturbing  gestures 
as  he  speaks.  He  went  on  to  say  that  he  had  come,  in 
his  name  and  that  of  his  senora,  to  ask  N.  and  myself  to 
attend  the  wedding  of  his  son,  Victor,  the  next  day.  And 
notwithstanding  much  advice  to  the  contrary  by  timid 
ones,  wre  think  it  expedient  to  go.  The  safety  of  all 
hangs  on  his  good-will,  and  it  will  be  wise,  as  well  as 
decent,  to  offer  him  this  last  public  attention.  Just 
then  Nelson  came  in.  After  greeting  the  President,  he 
said,  rather  hastily,  “They  have  taken  the  arms  away.” 

295 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


Huerta  answered  with  a gesture  of  indifference,  “It 
must  be,”  adding,  “no  le  hace”  (“it  doesn’t  matter”). 

I told  him  with  a smile,  which  he  quite  understood, 
that  it  wasn’t  much  in  the  way  of  an  exchange.  (As  we 
had  taken  seventeen  million  rounds  of  ammunition,  and 
God  knows  how  many  guns  and  rifles  in  Vera  Cruz,  his 
haul  at  the  Embassy  did  seem  rather  small!)  He  does 
not  want  us  to  go  out  by  Guadalajara  and  Manzanillo, 
and,  unless  compelled  to  cut  the  line,  he  gives  us  his 
train  to-morrow  night  to  Vera  Cruz,  with  a full  escort, 
including  three  officers  of  high  rank. 

“I  would  go  myself,”  he  said,  “but  I cannot  leave. 
I hope  to  send  my  son  in  my  place,  if  he  returns  from  the 
north,  as  I expect.” 

I was  dreadfully  keyed  up,  as  you  can  imagine;  I felt 
the  tears  gush  to  my  eyes.  He  seemed  to  think  it  was 
fear  that  moved  me,  for  he  told  me  not  to  be  anxious. 

I said,  “I  am  not  weeping  for  myself,  but  for  the 
tragedy  of  life.” 

And,  indeed,  since  seeing  him  I have  been  in  a sea  of 
sadness,  personal  and  impersonal — impersonal  because 
of  the  crushing  destiny  that  can  overtake  a strong  man 
and  a country,  and  personal,  because  this  many-colored, 
vibrant  Mexican  experience  of  mine  is  drawing  to  a 
close.  Nothing  can  ever  resemble  it. 

As  we  three  stood  there  together  he  uttered,  very 
quietly,  his  last  word : 

“I  hold  no  rancor  toward  the  American  people,  nor 
toward  su  Excelencia  el  Senor  Presidente  Wilson.”  And, 
after  a slight  pause,  he  added,  “He  has  not  understood.” 

It  was  the  first  and  last  time  I ever  heard  him  speak 
the  President’s  name.  I gave  him  my  hand  as  he  stood 
with  his  other  hand  on  Nelson’s  shoulder,  and  knew  that 
this  was  indeed  the  end.  I think  he  realized  that  my 
heart  was  warm  and  my  sympathies  outrushing  to 

296 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


beautiful,  agonizing  Mexico;  for,  as  he  stood  at  the  door, 
he  suddenly  turned  and  made  me  a deep  reverence. 
Then,- taking  N.’s  arm,  he  went  out  into  the  starry,  per- 
fumed evening,  and  I turned  back  into  the  dwelling  I 
was  so  soon  to  leave,  with  the  sadness  of  life,  like  a hot 
point,  deep  in  my  heart.  So  is  history  written.  So  do 
circumstances  and  a man’s  will  seem  to  raise  him  up  to 
great  ends,  and  so  does  destiny  crush  him.  . . , And 
we,  who  arrogated  to  ourselves  vengeance  for  unproven 
deeds  in  a foreign  land,  was  vengeance  ours? 

I left  the  Embassy  staff  alone  at  dinner  and  came 
up-stairs,  to  Aunt  Laura.  Again  I was  sick  at  the 
thought  of  leaving  her,  old,  ill,  and  in  troubles  of  many 
kinds.  I will  do  what  I can  for  her  before  I go ; but  oh, 
I am  sad,  very  sad,  to-night.  Whatever  else  life  may 
have  in  reserve  for  me,  this  last  conversation  with  a strong 
man  of  another  psychology  than  mine  will  remain  en- 
graven on  my  heart — his  calm,  his  philosophy  on  the 
eve  of  a war  he  knows  can  only  end  in  disaster  for  him- 
self and  his  people.  His  many  faults,  his  crimes,  even, 
his  desperate  expedients  to  sustain  himself,  his  non- 
fulfilments — all  vanish.  I know  his  spirit  possesses 
something  which  will  see  him  safely  over  the  dark  spaces 
and  hours  when  they  come.1 

1 If  I have  idealized  this  Indian  ruler,  whom  I knew  only  at  the  flood- 
tide  of  his  destiny,  I have  also,  perhaps,  given  a clearer  testimony  to 
facts.  Let  history  deduce  the  truth — E.  O’S. 


XXIII 


The  wedding  of  President  Huerta’s  son — Departure  from  the  Embassy — 
Huerta’s  royal  accommodations — The  journey  down  to  Vera  Cruz — 
The  white  flag  of  truce — We  reach  the  American  lines. 


E have  just  passed  the  famous  Metlac  Bridge. 


Far  down  these  enchanting  curves  I see  the  mili- 
tary train  which  precedes  us,  with  troops  to  test  the  line, 
and  a flatcar  for  our  three  automobiles,  to  get  us 
through  the  Federal  lines  at  Tejerfa.  We  passed  slowly 
over  the  Metlac  Bridge.  There,  in  the  middle,  was 
flying  the  great,  white  flag  of  peace!  We  could  proceed. 
It  made  our  hearts  beat  fast.  The  splendors  of  this 
land  under  this  cloudless  sky  are  indescribable ; marvel- 
ous odors  come  in  at  the  windows,  and  great,  blazing 
stars  of  red  and  vermilion  decorate  every  bush.  The 
broad  banana  leaves  take  every  possible  glint,  and  the 
bayonet  palms  are  swords  of  light.  Everything  is  gor- 
geous— everything  a splendid  blaze. 

At  Orizaba  orderly  crowds  cried  “ Viva  Mexico!” 
“ Mueran  los  Gringos!”  and  bared  their  heads,  as  the 
troop-cars  attached  to  our  train  rolled  out.  I cannot 
keep  my  eyes  from  the  beauties  of  this  natural  world 
through  which  we  are  journeying,  conducted  so  royally 
by  command  of  the  “Grand  Old  Indian.”  Nature  is  so 
generous  here  that  she  neither  needs  nor  asks  the  co- 
operation of  man  in  her  giving.  Alas  for  him! 


April  24th.  Q a.m. 
(In  the  train,  after  our  sudden  departure  last  night.) 


298 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


At  six  o’clock  this  morning  they  awakened  us  at 
Esperanza,  the  highest  point,  to  get  out  for  a good  break- 
fast offered  by  Corona.  The  troops  accompanying  us 
were  also  fed,  which  does  not  always  happen.  Rowan 
jogged  the  general’s  mind  by  offering  them  a breakfast 
from  us,  but  he  said,  “Oh  no;  we  will  provide  for 
them.”  He  evidently  had  orders  from  “on  high”  to 
spare  no  trouble  or  expense. 

10.45. 

We  have  just  passed  Cordoba,  finding  the  crowds  dis- 
tinctly more  uneasy.  We  bought  piles  of  bananas  and 
oranges  that  Rowan  is  taking  into  the  troop-car.  He 
has  just  come  back  to  say  the  soldiers  are  all  smiles. 
The  difficulty  with  the  army  is  that  the  officers  never  in 
any  way  look  after  their  men — and  a soldier  with  an 
empty  stomach  and  sore  feet  is  a sad  proposition. 
It  is  getting  very  warm.  We  are  in  the  heart  of  the 
coffee  zone  and  have  only  about  eighteen  hundred  feet  to 
travel  before  reaching  sea-level.  Embosomed  in  trees 
or  pressed  against  blue-green  hills  are  the  pink  belfries 
and  domes  my  heart  knows  so  well  and  my  eyes  love,  a 
Spanish  heritage  of  the  land.  I was  thankful  to  see, 
higher  up,  that  barley  and  corn  were  being  planted  for 
the  hungry  days  to  come.  Morning-glories  twist  about 
every  stump  and  branch  and  the  hibiscus  has  a richer 
color.  Beautiful,  beautiful  Mexico!  * * * 

I wonder  if  the  Embassy  was  pillaged  and  burned  last 
night?  Oh,  the  waste  there!  No  time  to  sort  out  things. 
My  clothes  still  hanging  in  the  closets,  my  bric-a-brac 
left  about,  and  I dare  say  a lot  of  trash  was  packed  that 
I don’t  care  for.  Dear  Mrs.  Melick  kissed  me  as  I came 
out  on  General  Corona’s  arm,  in  a dream,  it  seemed  to 
me,  Elim  clinging  to  my  hand,  to  take  the  auto  for  the 
station.  I had  left  Aunt  Laura  in  the  salon  with  various 
friends  whose  faces  are  one  great  blur  in  my  memory,  and 

399 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


Mrs.  Melick  was  going  in  to  get  her  and  take  her  to  her 
house.  Since  yesterday  afternoon  Americans  can  no 
longer  leave  Mexico  City.  Huerta,  having  heard  that  no 
Mexicans  could  leave  Vera  Cruz,  posted  this  order.  My 
heart  is  sad  at  leaving  our  people.  Heaven  knows  what 
will  happen  to  them.  The  Mexicans  have  commandeered 
all  arms  except  those  of  foreign  legations  (and  they  will 
probably  have  to  go),  all  horses,  all  automobiles,  great 
reserves  of  gasoline,  etc.  The  Embassy  was  well  pro- 
visioned. 

Last  night  our  train  was  supposed  to  go  at  nine  o’clock, 
but  we  did  not  leave  until  eleven-thirty.  The  chers  col- 
logues and  a very  few  others  who  knew  of  our  going  were 
there  to  see  us  off,  in  the  dimly  lighted,  gray  station. 
At  ten  I begged  our  friends  to  go,  and  said  good-by 
to  von  Hintze,  Hohler,  von  Papen,  les  Ayguesparsse, 
Stalewski,  Letellier,  Kanya,  and  the  Simons.  (Simon 
has  forty-five  millions  in  gold  in  the  Banco  Nacional; 
some  day  he  must  give  it  up  at  the  point  of  the  pistol.) 
We  have  masses  of  letters  and  telegrams  to  deliver.  The 
“Pius  Fund”  (forty-three  thousand  dollars)  and  my 
jewels  and  money  of  our  own  and  other  people’s  I carried 
in  the  black  hand-bag  with  the  gilt  clasps  which  you 
gave  me  in  Paris.  McKenna  guards  the  codes  as  if  they 
were  infants.  No  sovereign  of  Europe  could  have 
planned  and  executed  this  departure  of  ours  more  roy- 
ally than  Huerta  did  it.  You  remember  Polo  de  Ber- 
nabe’s  account  of  his  “escape”  from  the  land  of  the 
Stars  and  Stripes? 

At  Guadalupe,  the  first  stop  just  outside  the  city,  a 
painful  incident  occurred.  About  twenty-five  persons, 
friends,  were  waiting  there  to  board  the  train  and  con- 
tinue the  journey  with  us.  But  N.  had  given  his  word 
of  honor,  when  he  received  the  safe-conduct,  that  no 
person  or  persons  other  than  the  personnel  of  Embassy 

300 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


and  Consulate  should  avail  themselves  of  this  privilege. 
So  rarely  was  faith  kept  with  Huerta  that  it  seemed  hard 
that  it  should  be  done  in  this  crucial  hour  and  at  the 
expense  of  our  own  people.  We  intended,  however,  to 
save  even  honor ; but  as  our  train  rolled  out  of  the  station 
I felt,  to  the  full,  “the  fell  clutch  of  circumstance.” 

My  idea  is  to  be  immediately  vaccinated  and  injected 
for  all  ills,  and  to  return  from  New  York  with  the  first 
Red  Cross  brigade.  I look  into  the  deep  barrancas  and 
up  the  high  mountains,  and  know  my  people  will  be  lying 
there,  needing  help,  before  long.  Zapata  is  supposed  to 
have  offered  his  services  to  Huerta,  to  place  himself  in 
the  Sierras  between  Puebla  and  the  Tierra  Caliente. 
He  can  do  heartbreaking  things.  I know  I must  go  now, 
but  afterward  I can  return  to  work.  Shall  we  ever  again 
have  an  embassy  in  Mexico?  This  seems  the  death  of 
Mexican  sovereignty,  la  fin  d’une  nation. 

I saw  Sir  Lionel  for  a moment,  alone,  last  night. 
I thanked  him  for  all  the  work,  the  great  responsibility 
that  he  was  about  to  undertake  for  our  people.  He  is 
very  worried  and  anxious,  and  kept  saying,  “Oh,  the 
dreadful  responsibility  it  will  be!”'  I told  him  we  would 
not  fail  to  let  Washington  know  all  that  he  would  be 
doing  for  us.  I fear  a nervous  break  for  him.  Tears  were 
in  his  eyes  and  his  lip  trembled.  Our  press  has  not 
handled  him  gently  these  past  months.  I felt  both  grate- 
ful and  ashamed. 

We  have  just  passed  over  a deep,  vine-draped  ravine — 
the  Atoyac  Gorge,  with  a noisy  river  flowing  through. 
Women  and  children  are  bathing  and  washing  clothes 
under  the  trees.  Occasionally  a blonde  baby  is  seen  in 
his  dark  mother’s  arms — so  is  life  perpetuated.  We 
have  just  passed  the  village  of  Atoyac,  with  its  little 
thatched  shacks  and  adobe  huts,  where  the  people  are 
shouting  “ Viva  Mexico /”  and  we  are  about  to  make  our 

301 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


last  descent  into  the  burning  plain.  There,  after  a while, 
our  outposts  will  be  waiting  for  us — our  people  waiting 
to  receive  their  own.  This  is  the  march  of  empire  in 
which  we  literally  join.  Southward  she  takes  her  course. 
General  Corona  has  had  many  offerings  of  fruit  and 
flowers,  people  whom  he  had  never  seen  calling  him  ‘ ‘ Ra- 
moncito  ” and  “Mi  General and  throwing  pineapples 
and  oranges  into  the  train — the  offerings  of  humble 
hearts. 

But  I must  go  back  to  Wednesday  night — our  last 
night  in  Mexico  City — when  I was  too  tired  for  feeling 
or  thought.  In  the  morning  Nelson  decided  that,  under 
the  circumstances,  he  would  not,  could  not,  go  to  the 
Huerta  wedding.  Then  I decided  to  go  alone.  Rowan 
went  with  me,  in  the  automobile.  I put  on  my  best 
black  things,  long  white  gloves,  and  pearls,  got  through 
the  crowd  in  front  of  the  Embassy,  and  went  to  the 
President’s  house  in  the  Calle  Alfonso  Herrera,  enfolded 
and  exhilarated  by  dazzling  air.  I got  there  to  find 
myself  the  only  foreigner,  of  course,  and  only  three  or 
four  other  women,  the  wives  of  Cabinet  Ministers  and 
generals.  The  men  were  mostly  in  full  uniform.  Ma- 
dame Huerta  came  in,  looking  very  handsome  and  digni- 
fied in  a becoming  dress  of  delicate  pomegranate  color 
veiled  partly  with  black  lace — a good  dress.  We  gave 
each  other  the  abrazo,  and  she  placed  me  at  her  side,  on  the 
sofa.  The  youngest  son,  Roberto,  a fat  but  sympatico 
boy  of  fourteen,  also  in  full  uniform,  came  in  and  kissed  his 
mamaciia's  hand,  and  asked  for  some  order.  The  dark, 
bright-eyed  bride,  in  a dress  with  a good  deal  of  imita- 
tion lace,  arrived  nearly  three-quarters  of  an  hour  late. 
Immediately  after  her  arrival  the  President  entered,  in 
his  slouch-hat  and  the  celebrated  gray  sweater. 

He  quickly  greeted  the  guests,  called  his  wife,  “Emi- 
lia,” and  then  turned  to  me.  “Mrs.  O’Shaughnessy,”  he 

302 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


said,  and  indicated  a place  near  the  table  where  the 
marriage  contract  was  to  be  signed.  So  I rose,  and 
stood  with  the  family  during  the  ceremony,  which  he 
had  put  through  at  a lively  pace.  The  contract,  in 
referring  to  the  parents  of  the  bridegroom,  said  “Vic- 
toriano  Huerta,  fifty-nine,”  and  ‘‘Emilia  Huerta,  fifty- 
two.”  His  age  may  be  lessened  in  this  document  a 
year  or  two,  but  I doubt  it.  Madame  Huerta  can’t  be 
much  more  than  fifty-two.  The  youngest  girl,  Valen- 
cita,  is  only  seven. 

After  the  ceremony,  when  we  all  went  out  to  get  into 
the  automobiles,  Senora  Blanquet  was  with  us.  She  is 
short,  stout,  and  elderly.  I wanted  to  give  her  her  place 
as  wife  of  the  Minister  of  War,  but  the  President,  who 
helped  me  in,  insisted  first  upon  giving  me  his  wife’s 
place.  I said,  firmly,  ‘‘No”;  but  I was  obliged  to  take 
the  seat  beside  her,  while  Senora  Blanquet  struggled 
with  the  narrow  strapontin!  Imagine  my  feelings  as  we 
started  off  through  the  dazzling  streets  to  the  somewhat 
distant  “Buen  Tono”  church — built  by  Pugibet,  of 
‘‘Buen  Tono”  cigarette  fame,  and  put  by  him,  most 
beautifully  decorated,  at  the  disposition  of  the  President 
for  the  wedding.  On  our  arrival  the  President,  who 
had  gone  ahead,  appeared  to  help  us  out  of  the  motor; 
then,  saying  to  me,  “Tengo  que  hacer”  (‘‘I  have 
something  to  do”),  he  disappeared.  I never  saw  him 
again. 

I went  up  the  aisle  after  Madame  Huerta,  on  Rincon 
Gaillardo’s  arm.  As  soon  as  we  were  in  our  seats  the 
archbishop  came  out  and  the  ceremony  began — dignified 
and  beautiful.  Afterward  there  was  a low  Mass  with 
fine  music.  The  tears  kept  welling  up  in  my  eyes  as  I 
knelt  before  the  altar  of  the  God  of  us  all.  After  the 
ceremony  was  over  we  went  out  into  the  sacristy.  I 
congratulated  the  bride  and  groom,  spoke  to  a few  of 

3°3 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


the  colleagues  who  were  near,  and  then,  feeling  that 
my  day  and  hour  were  over,  I went  up  to  Madame 
Huerta. 

We  embraced  several  times,  with  tears  in  our  eyes, 
each  of  us  knowing  it  was  the  end  and  thinking  of  the 
horrors  to  come.  Then  I left  the  sacristy  on  some  offi- 
cer’s arm — I don’t  know  who  it  was — and  was  put  into 
my  motor,  where  Rowan  was  patiently  waiting.  There 
were  huge  crowds  before  the  church,  but  never  a murmur 
against  us.  Tears  were  raining  down  my  cheeks, 
but  Rowan  said:  “Don’t  mind.  The  Mexicans  will 
understand  the  tribute,  and  all  your  sadness  and 
regret.” 

We  passed  by  the  round  point,  the  “Glorieta,”  where 
I had  seen  the  statue  of  George  Washington  so  solemnly 
unveiled  two  years  ago,  on  the  2 2d  of  February,  19x2. 
It  had  been  pulled  down  in  the  night.  On  the  defaced 
pedestal  had  been  placed  a small  bust  of  Hidalgo. 
Flowers  were  scattered  about,  and  a Mexican  flag  cov- 
ered the  inscription  on  the  marble  base.  I learned  after- 
ward that  the  statue  had  been  dragged  in  the  night  by 
powerful  automobiles,  and  placed  at  the  feet  of  the 
statue  of  Benito  Juarez,  in  the  Avenida  Juarez,  whence 
the  authorities  had  had  the  courtesy,  and  had  taken  the 
time,  to  withdraw  it — through  streets  whose  windows 
were  hung  with  flags  of  every  nationality  except  ours: 
German,  French,  English,  Spanish. 

At  12.50  I got  home  to  find  still  larger  crowds  of 
Americans  at  the  Embassy — orderly  and  polite,  but  deep 
anxiety  was  on  every  face;  all  realized  the  issue  before 
them.  At  three  o’clock  I heard  that  we  would  be  leaving 
about  seven.  So  many  people  were  coming  in  that  I had 
no  time  to  separate  my  things  from  the  Embassy  things, 
nor  even  to  make  any  selections.  Berthe  was  occupied 
in  throwing  various  articles  into  open  trunks  and  valises, 

3°4 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


some  of  value,  some  without.  I don’t  think  she  lost  a 
pin.  I didn’t  get  even  to  my  big  writing-desk,  where  I 
had  sat  for  seven  months.  You  can  imagine  all  the  things 
that  were  left  there,  the  accumulations  of  these  historic 
months.  All  my  bibelots  were  left  about  the  salon, 
the  mantas  and  serapes,  the  signed  photographs  that  have 
accompanied  me  for  years,  my  beautiful  old  frames.  But 
in  the  face  of  the  national  catastrophe,  and  the  leaving 
of  our  people  to  God  knows  what,  I seemed  to  lose  all 
sense  of  personal  possession  or  to  feel  that  objects  could 
have  a value. 

We  have  just  passed  Paso  del  Macho.  Many  people, 
motley  groups,  were  standing  near  the  train,  crying 
* ‘ Viva  la  I ndependencia  de  Mexico!'  ’ Rowan  says  he  wants 
to  hear  more  “ Mucran  los  Gringos!"  We  are  about 
forty-five  kilometers  from  Vera  Cruz,  and  the  heat, 
after  the  plateau,  seems  intense;  though  it  is  not  dis- 
agreeable to  feel  the  dissolving  detente  of  the  skin  and 
nerves  after  the  dry  tenseness  of  many  months  at  eight 
thousand  feet. 

SOLEDAD,  1.1$. 

A blaze  of  heat,  merciless,  white.  We  find  Mexican 
rifles  stacked  at  intervals  along  the  station  platforms, 
and  there  are  groups  of  young  voluntarios  looking  proudly 
at  their  first  guns  or  drawing  long,  cruel  knives  from 
their  belts.  Some  are  eating  small,  green  limes,  not 
nourishing  at  best,  slashing  at  them  with  their  machetes. 
The  lack  of  a commissariat  is  what  prevents  the  Mexican 
army  from  being  in  any  way  efficient.  (Think  of  the  full 
stomachs  and  comfortably  shod  feet  of  our  men.)  Flat- 
cars with  cannon  and  automobiles  are  on  the  sidings. 
General  Gustavo  Maass,  whom  I have  not  seen  since 
our  trip  to  Vera  Cruz  in  January,  is  here  in  command. 
He  will  not  prove  efficient  — a blue-eyed  Mexican, 

3°S 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


wearing  his  sandy-gray  hair  in  a German  brush  effect, 
can't  be. 

4 o'clock. 

We  have  passed  Tejerfa,  the  last  Mexican  station;  the 
sand-hills  and  spires  of  Vera  Cruz  will  soon  be  dis- 
tinguishable. I have  just  looked  out  the  window,  my  eyes 
dim  with  tears.  Far  up  the  broken  track  the  blessed 
white  flag  of  truce  can  be  seen  approaching— our  people, 
our  men,  coming  for  their  own.  Admiral  Fletcher  evi- 
dently got  the  telegram.  Am  writing  these  words  on 
the  bottom  of  a little  bonbon-box,  which  afterward  I 
will  tuck  into  my  hand-bag.  Oh,  the  burning  dreariness 
of  this  land ! The  hot,  dry  inhospitality  of  it ! The  Mexi- 
can officers  of  our  escort  are  passing  and  repassing  my 
door,  with  troubled,  anxious,  hot  faces.  It  is  a bitter 
pill,  but  I see  no  use  in  trying  to  sugar-coat  it  by  con- 
versation. They  know  my  heart  is  heavy,  too. 

Later , on  the  margin  of  a page  of  the  “ Mexican  Herald.” 
Nelson  has  gone  with  the  Mexican  officers  up  the 
track  to  meet  our  men,  and  all  are  getting  out  of  the 
train,  standing  in  the  rank,  stiff  grass  by  the  track. 
God  made  the  heaven  and  the  earth.  * * * 


Vera  Cruz,  April  25th.  Morning. 

On  board  the  Minnesota,  in  the  very  comfortable 
quarters  of  the  admiral.  We  were  awakened  by  the 
band  playing  the  “Star-spangled  Banner,”  “God  Save 
the  King,”  the  beautiful  Spanish  national  air,  the 
“Marseillaise” — all  according  to  the  order  of  the  arrival 
of  the  ships  in  the  harbor.  A delightful  breeze  is  blow- 
ing and  the  electric  fans  are  at  work. 

The  last  word  I scribbled  yesterday  afternoon  was 
when  I was  waiting  in  my  state-room  for  Nelson  to  come 

306 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


back  to  our  Mexican  train,  with  our  officers,  under  the 
white  flag.  I was  delighted  and  deeply  moved  when 
suddenly  big,  agreeable,  competent  Captain  Huse  ap- 
peared at  the  door  and  said,  “Mrs.  O’Shaughnessy,  I 
am  glad  to  see  you  safely  arrived  and  to  welcome  you  to 
our  lines.” 

Poor  General  Corona  stood  by  at  the  meeting,  and  I 
turned  to  him  with  a more  than  hearty  handshake.  He 
kissed  my  hand,  and  his  eyes  filled.  Poor,  poor  people! 
As  Captain  Huse  helped  me  out  of  the  train,  to  my  joy 
and  surprise  I saw  Hohler  standing  by  the  track.  He 
had  taken  down  a trainful  of  agitated  Germans,  English, 
and  Americans,  two  days  before,  and  was  to  go  back  to 
Mexico  City  with  our  returning  train  and  escort.  I had 
a few  words  with  him,  amid  the  dry  cactus  of  the  parched 
field,  and  commended  to  his  courage  and  good  sense  our 
poor,  distracted  compatriots  left  in  the  volcanic  city. 
There  may  be  no  concerted  massacre  of  Americans,  but 
the  day  will  come  when  there  will  be  other  horrors. 
Hohler  said  he  had  not  slept  for  three  nights,  and  only 
prayed  for  a couple  of  hours  of  oblivion  before  tackling 
anything  else.  I wished  him  Godspeed,  and  gave  him  a 
handclasp  to  match  the  temperature. 

Then  Captain  Huse  came  up  to  me,  saying:  “We  must 
go.  Time  is  passing,  and  we  are  unarmed.” 

As  I turned  to  walk  down  the  track  with  him  I saw  the 
pathetic  spectacle  of  Madame  Maass,  whom  I had  parted 
from  on  that  starry  night  of  the  Fletcher  dinner,  four 
months  or  more  ago.  She  had  walked,  bareheaded,  up 
that  dusty  stretch  of  track,  from  one  train  to  the  other, 
to  go  to  join  her  husband  at  Soledad.  The  step  on  to 
the  train  by  the  steep  embankment  was  so  high  I could 
not  get  up,  nor  could  she  descend;  so  she  leaned  down  to 
me  and  I reached  up  to  her.  Tears  were  streaming  down 
her  grimy  face;  her  black  skirt  was  tom  and  rusty,  her 

307 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


other  clothing  nondescript,  to  say  the  least;  a pa- 
thetic, stout,  elderly  woman  caught  out  in  the  troubles 
of  war  — or  of  peace,  as  they  tell  me  it  is  called  in 
Washington. 

Then  Captain  Huse  and  two  of  his  officers,  Lieutenant 
Fletcher,  nephew  of  Admiral  Fletcher,  and  Ensign  Dodd, 
walked  down  the  track  with  me  about  two  kilometers. 
The  rails  were  tom  up,  but  the  road-bed  was  undestroyed, 
and  as  we  walked  along  in  the  blazing  sun,  with  scrubby, 
dusty  palms  and  cactus  in  the  grayish  fields  on  either 
side,  my  back  turned  to  the  Mexican  train,  I was  divided 
between  joy  and  sorrow — joy  to  see  and  be  with  my  own 
again  and  the  haunting  thought  of  poor,  distracted 
Mexico,  and  of  our  own  people,  whom  wre  had  been 
obliged  to  leave  to  Heaven  knows  -what  fate.  It  is 
easy  to  be  the  last  out  of  the  danger  zone,  but  very,  very 
hard  to  be  the  first;  I hope  that  another  time,  if  fate 
puts  us  again  in  such  strange  places,  we  will  be  the  last 
to  go. 

We  finally  got  to  our  own  train,  which  was  ran  by  a 
poor,  dilapidated,  leaking,  propped-up  engine,  all  that 
was  left.  The  Mexicans  had  been  quick  about  the  ma- 
chines, and  every  locomotive  had  been  seized  by  them 
and  sent  away,  after  which  they  had  destroyed  those 
kilometers  of  track.  Everybody  climbed  into  the  relief- 
train,  and  there  came  the  question  of  getting  our  luggage 
from  one  train  to  another.  Captain  Huse  had  been 
obliged  to  come  without  an  escort,  accompanied  only  by 
Fletcher  and  Dodd,  unarmed.  Until  they  had  us  they 
could  not  make  terms.  So,  to  make  a very  long  story 
short,  several  cutthroat-looking  peons,  casting  deadly 
glances  at  los  Gringos,  transferred  a lot  of  the  hand- 
luggage,  aided  by  the  men  of  the  party.  All  I possess  of 
value,  except  that  left  at  the  Embassy,  is  contained  in  a 
single,  large  trunk,  now  reposing  in  the  cactus-fields  in 

308 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


the  enemy’s  lines,  watched  over  by  the  same  shambling, 
dark-browed,  cutthroat  Mexicans  who  helped  to  trans- 
fer the  small  baggage. 

Captain  Huse,  finding  himself  with  a broken-down  en- 
gine and  a lot  of  unarmed  civilians,  and  with  sundown 
approaching,  was  too  anxious  to  get  into  his  own  lines  to 
think  of  such  trifles.  He  said,  afterward,  “You  didn’t 
realize  what  danger  we  were  in.”  I remember  that  I 
saw  his  face  suddenly  light  up,  as  we  slowly  moved  along. 
He  had  caught  sight  of  the  outposts  that  Admiral 
Fletcher,  with  vigilant  forethought,  had  placed  five  miles 
out  of  town,  with  guns  and  telescopes,  ready  to  rush  to 
our  aid,  if  necessary.  Then  he  knew  all  was  well,  and,  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  I had  not  been  able  to  realize  any 
danger,  my  eyes  filled  again  at  the  sight  of  our  brave  men, 
some  looking  through  their  telescopes,  others  ready  with 
their  guns. 

I asked  Captain  Huse,  “Are  we  at  war  with  Mex- 
ico?” 

And  he  answered,  “I  don’t  know.”  Adding,  “They 
say  not;  but  when  one  armed  force  opposes  another 
armed  force,  and  many  are  killed,  we  are  rather  of  the 
opinion  that  it  is  war.” 

He  had  just  come  from  the  thick  of  the  fray.  We  had 
sixty-three  wounded,  seventeen  killed,  and  several  hun- 
dred Mexicans  were  killed  and  wounded.  The  Cadet 
Academy  made  a fine  defense.  There  would  have  been 
more  casualties  for  us,  but  at  the  critical  moment  the 
San  Francisco,  the  Chester,  and  the  Prairie  opened  fire 
on  the  Academy,  a few  feet  only  above  the  heads  of  their 
own  men,  neatly  piercing  the  windows  of  the  broad,  low 
facade,  as  they  would  bulls’-eyes.  All  the  officers  are 
agreed  that  the  immense  sums  spent  in  target  practice 
by  the  navy  in  the  past  five  years  were  amply  compen- 
sated by  that  moment. 

21 


309 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


As  we  neared  Vera  Cruz  our  men  in  khaki  (or  white 
clothes  dyed  in  coffee,  according  to  the  hurry  order)  were 
seen  in  big  detachments  in  classic  poses — standing,  lean- 
ing on  their  guns,  or  sitting  in  groups  on  the  ground, 
drinking  coffee  and  smoking.  I must  say  it  looked  very 
cozy  and  safe.  Admiral  Fletcher  met  us  at  the  station, 
and  I was  glad  indeed  to  clasp  that  brave,  friendly  hand 
again.  He  has  done  splendid  work  along  all  lines,  passive 
or  active,  ever  since  he  came  to  Mexican  waters.  Shortly 
afterward  I said  good-by  to  him  and  to  Captain  Huse, 
who  is  his  chief  of  staff,  and  we  went  out  in  the  admiral’s 
barge  over  the  glistening  harbor,  a thousand  lights  still 
lighting  it,  as  when  I last  saw  it,  but  all  else  changed. 
Captain  Simpson,  of  the  Minnesota,  is  on  land  duty,  but 
the  second  in  command,  Commander  Moody,  met  us  at 
the  gangway  and  we  were  shown  into  these  most  com- 
fortable quarters.  I have  heard  so  much  of  the  discom- 
fort and  heat  of  the  men-of-war  that  I am  most  agreeably 
surprised.  The  electric  fan  is  working  ten  thousand 
revolutions  a moment;  some  one  has  called  the  new 
fan  la  Mexicana,  for  obvious  reasons.  Admiral  Badger 
came  to  welcome  us  last  night,  a great,  powerful,  steam- 
engine  of  a man — a “dictator”  (pardon  the  awful  word) ! 
It  is  a big  thing  to  have  complete  charge  of  so  powerful 
a combination  as  the  North  Atlantic  fleet.  He  also  said 
he  didn’t  know  whether  we  were  at  war  or  not, 
but  that  armed,  opposing  forces  with  heavy  casu- 
alties on  both  sides  was  generally  considered  to  be 
war;  that  we  now  “ enjoyed  all  the  disadvantages 
of  both  peace  and  war.”  He  had  heard  we  were 
arriving  with  eight  hundred  refugees,  and  had  char- 
tered the  Mexico,  of  the  Ward  Line,  to  take  them  away. 

He  asked,  “Where  are  all  the  others?” 

We  said,  “We  are  all  that  were  allowed  to  come.” 
Apropos  of  that,  if  it  isn’t  war,  it  is,  as  some  one  re- 

310 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


marked,  “sufficiently  Shermanically  synonymous”  for 
those  left  in  the  interior ! 

ii  o'clock. 

Captain  O’Keefe,  of  the  Mexico , came  to  my  state-room 
a while  ago.  I had  not  seen  him  since  before  the  ‘ 1 peace 
at  any  price”  regime  was  inaugurated.  He  is  waiting 
for  a full  complement  of  refugees;  they  are  expecting  a 
boatful  from  Coatzocoalcos,  this  afternoon.  Am  sitting 
in  the  drawing-room  of  the  admiral,  cannon  trained  from 
the  windows.  The  Cond6  got  in  early  this  morning. 
Lying  in  my  berth  I could  see  her  manoeuvering  into  hers. 
It  is  intensely  hot  in  the  harbor.  Two  hours  ago  Nelson 
went  to  the  Consulate  with  his  clerks.  There  is  a mass  of 
work  to  be  done,  besides  negotiations  for  getting  all 
Americans  out  of  Mexico  City.  I wonder  if  that  big, 
pleasant  Embassy  is  now  a mass  of  charred  ruins  ? 
A heavenly  breeze  is  blowing  through  the  room  as  I 
write.  I would  be  very  interested  in  what  is  going  on 
about  us  were  it  not  for  the  preoccupation  about  those 
left  behind.  Elim  has  a toy  pistol  which  he  has  been 
showing  to  the  blue- jackets.  He  says  it  is  strange  how 
frightened  they  all  are,  and  told  me,  with  shining  eyes, 
he  already  had  four  friends  on  the  ship  and  would  soon 
have  six.  It  is  a blessed  age — where  one  can  so  defi- 
nitely count  one’s  friends. 

4 P.M. 

I have  been  sitting  on  deck,  watching  this  busy  port. 
Innumerable  small  boats,  flying  our  flag  are  rapidly 
passing  to  and  fro  over  the  burning  waters.  Behind  the 
Cond6,  which  has  effectually  blocked  the  view  of  the 
outer  harbor,  is  the  Solace.  She  contains  the  wounded, 
the  dead,  and,  mayhap,  the  dying  ones.  The  Minnesota 
is  so  near  the  Sanidad  pier  that  one  can  almost  recognize 
individuals.  Squads  of  our  men  are  constantly  marching 
along  with  prisoners  between  double  files,  men  who  have 

3n 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


been  caught  sniping,  bearing  arms,  or  doing  some  overt 
act  or  deed  of  violence.  Last  night,  while  dining,  the 
echo  of  shots  came  from  the  shore,  and  during  the  night, 
from  time  to  time,  desultory  ghostly  sounds  of  sniping 
were  heard. 

I have  just  looked  through  the  glass  to  distinguish 
about  a dozen  of  our  men  standing  at  the  head  of  a street 
with  fixed  bayonets,  facing  a pink  house,  evidently  ready 
to  protect  some  one  coming  out  of  it,  or  to  do  justice. 
The  lone  torpedo-tube  from  San  Juan  Ulua  is  trained 
toward  the  Minnesota,  but  it  is  believed  to  be  inoffensive. 
I am  sure  I hope  it  is,  cuddled  under  our  bows,  so  to 
speak.  Yesterday  two  Mexican  officers  came  out  of  that 
historic  fortress,  begging  to  be  allowed  to  get  food. 
They  said  they  and  all  the  inmates  were  starving.  I 
saw  the  conditions  in  days  of  relative  plenty.  What 
must  they  be  now  in  those  damp,  deep,  vermin-infested 
holes?  Pale  specters  of  men,  too  weak  to  move,  or  wild 
with  hunger  and  all  the  ensuing  horrors — and  all  this  so 
near  that  I could  almost  hit  it  with  a stone. 

Ships  of  refugees  are  passing  in  and  out.  A Dutch 
ship,  Andrijk,  has  just  left,  and  a French  one,  the  Texas, 
passed  by  us,  leaving  for  Tampico  to  gather  up  refugees. 
Think  of  all  the  comfortable  homes,  with  the  precious 
accumulations  of  lifetimes  of  thrift  and  work,  that  are 
deserted  in  the  disorder  of  flight,  to  be  left  later  to  the 
complete  devastation  of  looters.  All  over  the  country 
this  is  taking  place.  An  officer  who  saw  a group  of  thirty 
or  forty  refugees  at  Tampico  told  me  he  thought  at  first 
it  was  a band  of  gypsies;  it  proved,  however,  to  be  half- 
clad,  starving  women  and  children  who  but  a few  days 
before  had  been  prosperous  American  citizens. 

The  sun  is  under  a cloud,  but  a hot,  damp  atmos- 
phere has  enveloped  the  port,  and  an  opalescent  light 
plays  over  the  town.  From  where  I sit  I can  see  the  old 

312 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


white  fortress  of  Sant’  Iago  which  we  shelled,  and  the 
yellow  Naval  Academy  where  the  Mexican  youths  made 
their  gallant  stand.  The  chartered  boats  of  the  Ward 
Line,  Mexico,  Monterey,  and  Esperanza,  also  the  now 
historic  Ypiranga,  are  lying  close  to  the  various  piers, 
ready  to  receive  refugees  and  take  them  to  New  Orleans 
or  Galveston.  There  they  will  be,  in  many  cases,  a three 
days’  source  of  interest — and  then  they  can  starve! 

Helen,  the  deer,  a great  pet  of  the  sailors,  and  got  in 
Tampico,  keeps  trying  to  nibble  my  long,  white  veil ; the 
spotless  decks  are  rather  poor  for  browsing,  and  she  looks 
a bit  disconsolate  at  times.  A snappy  green  parrot  is 
being  taught  to  say,  “Look  out  for  the  snipers.” 

April  25th.  10.30. 

I spent  yesterday  quietly  on  board,  getting  my  breath. 
N.  was  at  the  Consulate  all  day,  where  he  had  been  send- 
ing off  his  mail.  About  five  o’clock,  when  he  went  to 
return  Admiral  Badger’s  call,  I went  into  town,  first  to 
the  headquarters  of  Admiral  Fletcher,  at  the  fly-infested 
Hotel  Terminal.  In  the  past  the  proprietor  has  encour- 
aged in  many  ingenious  ways  the  propagation  of  the  fly. 
He  owns  the  other  hotel,  the  Diligencias,  where  he  has 
his  cuisine.  In  order  to  save  himself  the  expense  and 
bother  of  keeping  two  cooking-places  going,  he  allowed 
the  Terminal  to  become  so  disgustingly  infested  with 
flies  that  the  “guests”  are  obliged  to  tramp  through  the 
hot  streets  to  the  Diligencias  whenever  the  pangs  of 
hunger  or  thirst  assail  them.  We  have  cleaned  out  more 
things  than  flies  in  the  tropics,  however. 

I saw  at  the  headquarters,  for  a moment,  Captain 
Huse,  Sir  Christopher,  and  le  capitaine  de  vaisseau 
Graux,  commanding  the  Condt,  and  many  others.  After- 
ward Admiral  Fletcher  sent  Rowan  with  me  to  see  the 
town. 


313 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 

Everything  is  closely  watched  and  controlled  by  our  five 
thousand  or  more  blue-jackets  and  marines.  Everywhere 
are  the  marks  of  bullets  along  the  once-peaceful  streets — 
the  clean  perforations  of  the  steel- jacketed  bullets  of  the 
American  rifles ; quaint  cornices  chipped ; electric  street 
globes  destroyed;  pink  facades  looking  as  if  there  was 
a design  in  white  where  the  shots  had  taken  off  the  color. 
We  walked  over  to  the  Plaza,  meeting  acquaintances  at 
every  step,  harassed  and  discomfited  refugees.  Several 
hundreds  had  just  got  into  the  city  of  the  “Truly”  Cross 
from  Mexico  City  in  the  last  train,  having  been  nearly 
twenty  hours  en  route  and  having  left  most  of  what  they 
possessed  for  the  mobs  of  Mexico  City.  It  is  difficult  to 
get  any  exact  information  from  them.  According  to 
their  stories,  many  of  the  bankers  were  in  jail;  American 
shops  were  looted ; some  Americans  were  killed ; and  all 
Mexican  servants  had  been  warned  to  leave  American 
homes.  As  they  left  only  seven  hours  later  than  we  did, 
I don’t  know  that  their  information  is  worth  much. 
The  telegraph  lines  are  down.  What  we  do  know  is  that 
dreadful  things  can  happen  in  that  beautiful  city  at  any 
moment.  When  the  Embassy  was  closed,  the  whole 
thing  collapsed,  from  the  point  of  view  of  Americans. 

When  Rowan  and  I got  to  the  Plaza  we  found  the 
band  of  the  Florida  playing  in  the  band-stand — nothing 
like  so  well  as  the  Mexican  Policia  Band,  by  the  way — 
and  hundreds  of  people,  foreigners,  Americans,  Mexicans, 
sitting  about,  taking  their  lukewarm  drinks  under  the 
portales  of  the  Hotel  Diligencias,  whose  ice-plant  had 
been  destroyed  by  a shell  from  the  Chester.  The  place 
swarms  with  our  men,  and  the  buildings  looking  on  the 
Plaza  are  all  occupied  as  quarters  for  our  officers. 
From  the  bullet-defaced  belfry  of  the  newly  painted 
cathedral  blue-jackets  looked  down  upon  us,  and  from 
every  roof  and  every  window  faces  of  our  own  soldiers 

3H 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


and  officers  were  to  be  seen.  We  walked  across  to  the 
Municipal  Palace,  which  is  also  used  by  us  as  a barracks. 
The  men  of  the  Utah  were  answering  the  bugle-call  to 
muster  for  night  duty.  They  were  of  the  battalion  land- 
ing in  small  boats  under  heavy  fire  that  first  day;  they 
were  saved  by  the  cannon-fire  from  the  ships.  There 
were  many  casualties  among  their  ranks.  The  men  look 
happy,  proud,  and  pleased,  and  in  all  the  novel  excite- 
ment and  pride  of  conquest.  I went  into  the  church, 
where  I also  found  some  of  our  men  stationed.  Some  one 
had  been  shot  and  killed  from  behind  the  high  altar, 
two  days  ago.  I fell  on  my  knees,  in  the  dimness,  and 
besought  the  God  of  armies. 

As  we  walked  along  in  the  older  part  of  the  town,  en 
route  to  the  Naval  Academy,  there  were  piles  of  once 
peaceful,  love-fostering,  green  balconies  heaped  in  the 
streets.  They  will  be  used  for  camp-fires  by  our  men. 
Doors  were  broken  in,  houses  empty.  There  was  a great 
deal  of  sniping  done  from  the  azoteas  (roofs)  those  first 
days,  and  it  was  necessary,  in  many  cases,  to  batter  down 
the  doors  and  go  up  and  arrest  the  people  caught  in 
flagrante,  in  that  last  retreat  of  the  Latin-American. 

Pulque  !-shops  and  cantinas  of  all  descriptions  were  bar- 
ricaded, and,  looking  through  the  doors,  wre  could  see 
heaps  of  broken  glass,  overturned  tables  and  chairs.  A 
sour,  acrid  smell  of  various  kinds  of  tropical  “enliveners” 
hung  in  the  still,  heavy  air — mute  witnesses  of  what  had 
been.  We  passed  through  several  sinister-looking  streets, 
and  I thought  of  “Mr.  Dooley’s”  expression,  “The 
trouble  we  would  have  if  we  would  try  to  chase  the  Mon- 
roe doctrine  up  every  dark  alley  of  Latin  America.”  The 

1 One  of  the  most  amusing  things  ever  stated  about  Carranza  is  that 
he  intends  to  have  the  too-popular  pulque  replaced  by  light  French  wines! 
One  can  only  hope  that,  while  he  is  about  it,  he  will  arrange  to  replace 
com  by  permanent  manna! 

3*5 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


big,  once-handsome  Naval  Academy  was  patrolled  by 
our  men,  its  fagade  telling  the  tale  of  the  taking  of  the 
town  only  too  well;  windows  destroyed  by  the  Chester's 
guns,  balconies  hanging  limply  from  their  fastenings. 
We  looked  through  the  big  door  facing  the  sea,  but  the 
patrol  said  we  could  not  enter  without  a permit.  Every 
conceivable  disorder  was  evident — cadets’  uniforms  lay 
with  sheets,  pillows,  books,  broken  furniture,  heaps  of 
mortar,  plaster.  The  boys  made  a heroic  stand,  and 
many  of  them  gave  up  their  lives;  but  what  could  they 
do  when  every  window  was  a target  for  the  unerring  mark 
of  the  Chester's  guns?  Many  a mother’s  hope  and  pride 
died  that  day  for  his  country,  before  he  had  had  a chance 
to  live  for  it.  This  is  history  at  close  range. 

I had  finally  to  hurry  back,  stopping,  hot  and  tired, 
for  a few  minutes  at  the  Diligencias,  where  we  had  some 
lukewarm  ginger-ale;  my  sticky  glass  had  a couple  of 
reminiscent  lemon-seeds  in  it.  It  was  getting  dusk  and 
Rowan  was  afraid  the  sniping  might  begin.  I got  into 
the  Minnesota' s waiting  boat,  feeling  unspeakably  sad, 
and  was  put  out  across  the  jeweled  harbor — but  what 
jewels!  Every  one  could  deal  a thousand  deaths. 

Nelson  had  a long  talk  with  Admiral  Fletcher.  . . . 
On  receipt  of  orders  to  prevent  the  delivery  by  the 
Ypiranga  of  the  arms  and  ammunition  she  was  carrying 
to  the  Mexican  government  and  to  seize  the  customs, 
his  duty  was  solely  to  carry  out  the  commands  of  the 
President  in  a manner  as  effective  as  possible,  with  as 
little  damage  to  ourselves  as  possible.  This  he  did. 

I think  we  have  done  a great  wrong  to  these  people; 
instead  of  cutting  out  the  sores  with  a clean,  strong 
knife  of  war  and  occupation,  we  have  only  put  our 
fingers  in  each  festering  wound  and  inflamed  it  further. 
In  Washington  there  is  a word  they  don’t  like,  though  it 
has  been  written  all  over  this  port  by  every  movement 

3^ 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 

of  every  war-ship  and  been  thundered  out  by  every 
cannon — War.  What  we  are  doing  is  war  accompanied 
by  all  the  iniquitous  results  of  half-measures,  and  in 
Washington  they  call  it  “peaceful  occupation.” 

Now  I must  sleep.  The  horrors  of  San  Juan  Ulua  (on 
which  our  search-lights  play  continually)  will  haunt  me, 
I know.  The  stench  of  those  manholes  is  rising  to  an 
unanswering,  starlit  sky.  May  we  soon  deliver  it 
from  itself! 

Saturday  Morning. 

Captain  Simpson  came  back  from  shore  duty  late  last 
night.  He  is  so  kind  and  solicitous  for  our  comfort,  that 
I only  hope  we  are  not  too  greatly  interfering  with  his. 
He  has  had  his  men  lodged  in  a theater,  commandeered 
for  the  purpose.  He  went  to  some  barracks  first,  but 
fortunately  learned  in  time  that  there  had  been  menin- 
gitis there,  and  decamped  even  quicker  than  he  went  in. 
Captain  Niblack  has  taken  his  place. 

The  Minnesota,  on  which  Admiral  Fletcher  was  when 
he  went  into  Vera  Cruz,  is  a ship  not  belonging  to  any 
division  down  here,  and  is  only  temporarily  in  harbor. 
So  she  is  used  for  all  sorts  of  disjointed,  but  important 
work — distributing  of  supplies,  communications  of  all 
kinds.  She  is  more  than  busy — a sort  of  clearing-house — 
during  what  they  call  here  ‘ * the  hesitation  war,  one  step 
forward,  one  step  back,  hesitate,  and  then — side-step.” 
The  rescue-train  goes  out  through  our  lines  every  day 
under  Lieutenant  Fletcher,  to  meet  any  train  possibly 
arriving  from  the  interior.  And,  oh,  the  odds  and  ends 
of  exasperated  and  ruined  American  humanity  it. 
brings  in! 


XXIV 


Dinner  on  the  Essex — The  last  fight  of  Mexico’s  naval  cadets — American 
heroes — End  of  the  Tampico  incident — Relief  for  the  starving  at  San 
Juan  Ulua — Admiral  Fletcher’s  greatest  work. 


HEN  Nelson  left,  as  you  know,  he  turned  our 


affairs  over  to  the  British,  an  English-speaking, 
friendly,  great  Power,  which  could  and  would  help  our 
nationals  in  their  desperate  plight.  Behold  the  result! 
Last  night  we  dined  on  the  Essex,  in  our  refugee  clothes. 
Sir  Christopher,  looking  very  handsome  in  cool,  spot- 
less linen,  met  us  at  the  gangway  with  real  cordiality 
and  interest. 

His  first  words  after  his  welcome  were,  “I  have  good 
news  for  you.” 

“What  is  it?”  we  asked,  eagerly.  “We  have  heard 
nothing.” 

“Carden  is  going  to  arrange  to  get  out  a refugee-train 
of  several  hundred  Americans  on  Monday  or  Tuesday, 
and  I have  this  afternoon  sent  off  Tweedie  [commander 
of  the  Essex]  with  two  seven-foot  marines  and  a native 
guide  to  accompany  the  convoy  down.  He  is  to  get  up 
by  hook  or  crook.  He  will  go  by  train,  if  there  is  a train, 
by  horse  if  there  isn’t,  and  on  foot,  if  he  can’t  get  horses.” 

You  can  imagine  the  love  feast  that  followed  as  we 
went  down  to  dinner.  We  were  proceeding  with  a very 
nice  piece  of  mutton  (Admiral  Badger  had  sent  a fine, 
juicy  saddle  over  to  Sir  Christopher  that  morning)  when 
a telegram  came — I think  from  Spring-Rice.  Anyway, 


it 


Minnesota ,”  April  26th. 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


the  four  Englishmen  read  it  and  looked  rather  grave. 
After  a pause  Sir  Christopher  said,  “They  might  as  well 
learn  it  from  us.”  What  do  you  think  that  telegram 
contained?  The  news  that  American  interests  had  been 
transferred  from  Sir  Lionel’s  hands  into  those  of  Cardoza, 
the  Brazilian  minister!  Of  course  I said  to  Sir  Christo- 
pher, “Our  government  very  naturally  wants  to  com- 
pliment and  sustain  good  relations  with  South  America, 
and  this  is  an  opportunity  to  emphasize  the  fact,”  but 
it  was  rather  a damper  to  our  love  feast. 

Well,  we  have  taken  our  affairs  and  the  lives  of  many 
citizens  out  of  the  hands  of  a willing,  powerful,  and  re- 
sourceful nation  and  put  them  into  the  hands  of  a man 
who,  whatever  Power  he  represents,  has  not  the  practical 
means  to  carry  out  his  kind  desires  or  friendly  inten- 
tions. I doubt  if  Huerta  knows  him  more  than  by 
sight.  Washington  has  made  up  its  mind  about 
Carden  and  the  English  rdle  in  Mexico,  and  no  deeds 
of  valor  on  the  part  of  Carden  will  make  any  differ- 
ence. Washington  won’t  have  him.  Sir  Christopher 
Cradock,  here  in  a big  battle-ship  in  the  harbor,  is  willing 
and  able  to  co-operate  with  Sir  Lionel,  the  head  of  a 
powerful  legation  in  Mexico  City,  for  the  relief  of  our 
nationals  in  sore  plight  and  danger  of  life ; but  apparently 
that  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  case.  Washington  is  re- 
lentless. 

The  Essex  shows  between  eighty  and  ninety  “wounds,” 
the  results  of  the  fire  from  the  Naval  Academy  on 
Wednesday.  Paymaster  Kimber,  whom  they  took  me  in 
to  see  after  dinner,  was  in  bed,  shot  through  both  feet 
and  crippled  for  life.  The  ship  was  an  “innocent  by- 
stander,” with  a vengeance.  In  Sir  Christopher’s  saloon, 
or  rather,  Captain  Watson’s  saloon,  were  hung  two  slip- 
pers (one  of  pink  satin  and  the  other  of  white)  which  had 
been  found  at  the  Naval  Academy  after  the  fight — dumb 

3*9 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


witnesses  of  other  things  than  war.  The  officers  said 
the  Academy  was  a horrid  sight.  Those  boys  had  taken 
their  mattresses  from  their  beds,  put  them  up  at  the 
windows,  and  fired  over  the  top;  but  when  the  fire 
from  the  ships  began  these  flimsy  defenses  were  as 
nothing.  There  were  gallant  deaths  that  day.  May 
their  brave  young  souls  rest  in  peace.  I don’t  want  to 
make  invidious  distinctions,  but  in  Mexico  the  youngest 
are  often  the  brightest  and  noblest.  Later  there  is 
apt  to  be  a discouraging  amount  of  dross  in  the  gold. 

I keep  thinking  of  Captain  Tweedie,  en  route  to  Mexico 
City  to  help  bring  out  American  women  and  children. 
When  he  gets  there  he  will  find  that  rescue  isn’t  any  of 
his  business! 

Yesterday  afternoon  the  North  Dakota  came  in.  We 
saw  her  smoke  far  out  at  sea,  and  she  was  a great  sight 
as  she  dropped  anchor  outside  the  breakwater.  I was 
looking  through  the  powerful  glass  on  Captain  Simpson’s 
bridge.  Her  blue- jackets  and  marines  were  massed  in 
orderly  lines,  doubtless  with  their  hearts  beating  high 
at  the  idea  of  active  service.  Lieutenant  Stevens,  who 
was  slightly  wounded  in  the  chest  on  Wednesday,  came 
back  to  the  ship  yesterday.  He  is  a young  bridegroom 
of  last  autumn  and  has  been  here  since  January.  The 
“cheerful,  friendly’’  bullet  is  in  his  chest  in  a place 
where  he  can  always  carry  it.  I understand  that  when 
he  was  wounded  he  was  on  the  outskirts  of  the  town, 
and  that  he  and  another  wounded  man,  themselves  on 
the  verge  of  collapse,  carried  an  unconscious  comrade 
several  kilometers  to  the  hospital.  But  who  shall  record 
all  the  gallant  deeds  of  the  21st  and  2 2d  of  April?1 

I I think  of  a few — a very  few — out  of  the  number  that  were  recounted 
to  me:  McDonnell  commanding  the  machine-guns,  trained  from  the 
Hotel  Terminal,  while  the  blue-jackets  were  landing  under  fire.  In  that 
exposed  position  his  men  (mere  boys)  were  falling  all  about  him;  the 

320 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 

“ Minnesota ,”  April  26th.  j p.m. 

I witnessed  from  the  deck  of  our  ship,  an  hour  ago,  the 
dramatic  end  of  the  Tampico  incident,  and,  doubtless, 
the  beginning  of  a much  greater  one — the  raising  of  our 
flag  over  the  town  of  Vera  Cruz,  which  was  to-day  put 
under  martial  law.  At  1.30  I went  up  on  deck.  The 
bay  was  like  a hot  mirror,  reflecting  everything.  Through 
a glass  I watched  the  preparations  for  the  raising  of  the 
flag  on  the  building  by  the  railroad  station — an  English 
railway.  “Who’s  whose  now,”  came  into  my  mind. 

It  was  a busy  scene  on  shore  and  land.  Admiral 
Badger  passed  over  the  shining  water  in  his  barge,  a 
beautiful  little  Herreschoff  boat,  shortly  before  two  o’clock, 
wearing  side-arms.  His  staff  was  with  him.  Battalions 
were  landing  from  various  ships  and  immense  crowds 
stood  near  the  railroad  station.  There  was  an  electric 
something  in  the  air.  Captain  Simpson  and  his  officers, 
of  course,  were  all  on  deck,  looking  through  their  glasses, 
and  we  were  all  breathing  a little  hard,  wondering  what 
the  foreign  war-ships  would  do.  Would  they  ac- 
knowledge our  salute?  Exactly  at  two  o’clock  the  flag 
was  raised,  and  immediately  afterward  the  Minnesota 
gave  the  famous  twenty-one  salutes  to  our  own  flag,  re- 
fused us  at  Tampico.  The  bay  was  ominously  quiet  af- 
ter the  thunder  of  our  cannon.  I suppose  the  foreign 
ships  were  all  busy  cabling  home  to  their  governments 
for  instructions.  No  man  could  venture  to  settle  that 
question  on  his  own  initiative.  It  was  anti-climax  with 
a vengeance ! 

dash  of  Wainright  and  Castle  and  Wilkinson  for  the  Customs-House; 
Badger  and  Townsend  pushing  up  the  steel  belfry  stairs  of  the  cathedral 
in  the  hunt  for  snipers;  Courts  taking  messages  to  the  Chester  through 
the  zone  of  fire.  The  enlisted  men  were  magnificent.  Chief  Boatswain 
McCloy,  with  a few  men  in  small  launches,  steamed  across  the  bay  to 
attract  the  fire  of  the  sharpshooters  so  the  Prairie  could  get  the  range. 
The  days  of  danger  were  all  too  short  for  those  gallant  hearts. 

321 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


Is  this  to  be  the  end  of  all  that  triangular  work  of 
Nelson’s  between  Huerta,  the  Foreign  Office,  and  Wash- 
ington during  the  two  weeks  elapsing  since  Colonel  Hino- 
josa’s taking  of  our  blue-jackets  out  of  their  boat  at 
Tampico  and  our  leaving  the  Embassy  in  Mexico  City? 

This  morning  I went  ashore,  accompanied  by  a young 
officer,  McNeir.  We  sauntered  for  an  hour  or  so  about 
the  town,  which  has  decidedly  pulled  itself  together. 
Shops  that  were  heaped  with  overturned  furniture, 
broken  glass,  and  strewn  with  dirty  papers  and  debris  of 
every  description,  visible  through  shattered  windows  and 
broken  doors  two  days  ago,  had  been  swept  out  and 
were  showing  signs  of  normal  occupation.  New  doors 
were  being  made,  and  the  little  green  balconies  of  peace 
were  being  mended.  Ensign  McNeir  suddenly  found 
that  he  had  been  spat  upon.  His  broad  chest  was  lav- 
ishly embroidered  in  a design  of  tobacco- juice,  doubtless 
from  an  innocent-looking  green  balcony.  He  had  blood 
in  his  eye,  and  kept  glancing  about,  hoping  to  find  the 
man  that  did  it. 

The  Naval  Academy  was  a horrid  sight  as  wre  went  in 
from  the  sea-front.  In  the  school-rooms  books,  maps, 
globes,  and  desks  were  overthrown  among  masses  of 
mortar.  One  of  the  blackboards  bore  the  now  familiar 
words  in  chalk,  Mneran  los  Gringos.  Great  holes  were  in 
floors,  walls,  and  ceilings.  When  we  went  up-stairs  the 
devastation  was  even  greater.  Our  men  had  fought  in 
the  street,  and  the  Chester  and  Prairie  fired  over  their 
heads  just  into  the  windows  of  the  second  floor,  where 
were  the  commandant’s  quarters,  and  the  large,  airy  dor- 
mitories. The  dormitories  had  been  rifled  before  we  put 
a guard  over  the  building,  the  lockers  emptied  of  their 
boyish  treasures — knives,  books,  photographs;  occasion- 

322 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


ally  a yellow  or  red  artificial  rose,  a ribbon,  or  a bit  of 
lace  testified  to  other  gods  than  Mars. 

The  great  floors  were  ankle-deep  in  a litter  of  uni- 
forms, shirts,  collars,  gloves,  letters,  brushes,  combs,  and 
the  like.  They  had  been  comfortable,  airy  quarters,  and 
I suppose  now  will  make  good  barracks,  or  headquarters, 
for  our  officers.  Photographers  were  busy  as  we  passed 
through.  In  the  two  dormitories  giving  on  the  Plaza 
at  the  back,  away  from  the  ships’  fire,  the  dying  and 
wounded  had  evidently  been  carried.  Blood-soaked  pil- 
lows, mattresses,  and  sheets  bore  witness  to  their  agonies. 
Our  men  were  busy  everywhere  in  the  building,  sorting, 
packing,  and  putting  things  in  order.  A town  under 
martial  law  seemed,  this  morning,  an  orderly  affair 
indeed. 

I inclose  Admiral  Fletcher’s  “Proclamation  to  the 
Public  of  Vera  Cruz,”  also  his  order  for  martial  law. 
This  proclamation  will  facilitate  the  functions  of  govern- 
ment. Many  difficulties  were  in  the  way  of  renewing  the 
regular  civil  and  business  activities  of  the  town.  There 
is  a clause  in  the  Mexican  constitution  which  makes  it 
high  treason  for  any  Mexican  to  hold  employment  under 
a foreign  flag  during  enemy  occupation,  and  for  once  the 
Mexicans  seem  to  be  living  up  to  the  constitution. 

It  is  wonderful  how  our  blue- jackets  and  marines  have 
been  able  to  go  into  Vera  Cruz  and  perform  the  compli- 
cated, skilled  labor  necessary  to  the  well-being  of  a 
town.  Everything,  from  the  ice-plants  and  tramways 
to  the  harbor  lighthouse  and  post-office,  has  been  put  in 
working  order;  they  seem  to  step  with  equal  facility 
into  one  and  every  position  requiring  skilled  labor. 
They  are  a most  resourceful  set  of  men,  these  hatchet- 
faced, fair-haired  youths,  the  type  standing  out  so  dis- 
tinctly in  that  tropical  setting.  I was  deeply  impressed. 
Six  thousand  of  them  are  on  land.  On  the  trip  down 

323 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 

our  automobile  clutch  was  damaged.  Two  blue- jackets 
looked  at  it  and,  though  neither  had  ever  been  in  an 
automobile  before,  they  brought  it  back  to  the  Terminal 
station,  several  hours  later,  in  perfect  order,  able  and 
longing  to  run  it  about  town. 

At  noon  yesterday  thousands  of  arms  were  delivered 
to  the  authorities — a hybrid  collection  of  Mauser  guns, 
old  duelling  and  muzzle-loading  pistols.  Relics  of  1847 
were  also  numerous.  For  several  days  there  has  been 
little  or  no  “sniping.”  One  man  remarked,  “Take  it 
from  me,  it’s  a quiet  old  town.  I walked  ten  blocks  at 
midnight,  last  night,  without  seeing  a human  being.” 
I might  also  add  that  I know  two  methods  of  clearing 
streets  at  night  rivaling  the  curfew — snipers,  and  the 
press-gang. 

“ Proclamation  to  the  People  of  Vera  Cruz 

“ As  the  aggressions  against  the  soldiers  under  my  com- 
mand have  continued,  isolated  shots  being  made  from 
various  edifices,  and  desiring  that  order  and  tranquillity 
be  absolutely  re-established,  I demand  that  all  who  have 
in  their  possession  arms  and  ammunition  give  them  up 
at  the  Police  inspection  in  the  Municipal  Palace  within 
the  shortest  time  possible.  Those  who  have  not  done 
so  before  twelve  o’clock  of  the  26th  of  this  month  will  be 
punished  with  all  severity,  as  also  those  continuing  hos- 
tilities against  the  forces  under  my  command.  On  the 
surrender  of  arms  the  corresponding  receipt  will  be  given. 

“ (Rear  Admiral)  F.  F.  Fletcher. 

“Vera  Cruz,  April  25,  1914.” 

Yesterday  at  five  o’clock  we  sent  one  thousand  rations 
into  the  starving  fort  of  San  Juan  Ulua,  and  to-day  our 
flag  flies  high  above  it.  All  the  political  prisoners  were 

324 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


released.  We  could  see  from  the  deck  of  the  Minnesota 
two  boat-loads  of  them  coming  across  the  shining  water 
and  being  landed  at  the  Sanidad  pier.  After  that,  I 
suppose,  they  swelled  the  ranks  of  the  undesirable  with- 
out money,  occupation,  homes,  or  hopes. 

I saw  Mr.  Hudson,  yesterday,  looking  rather  worn. 
With  groanings  and  travail  unspeakable  the  Mexican 
Herald  is  being  published  in  Vera  Cruz.  He  says  they 
have  the  greenest  of  green  hands  to  set  the  type,  and  the 
oftener  it  is  corrected  the  worse  the  spelling  gets,  the 
nights  being  one  long  hell.  But  as  most  of  his  readers 
have  a smattering  of  Spanish  and  English,  with  more 
than  a smattering  of  personal  knowledge  of  the  situa- 
tion, the  Herald  still  is  most  acceptable  as  a “breakfast 
food.” 

The  Inter-oceanic,  the  route  to  Mexico  City  over  Pue- 
bla, is  being  fast  destroyed.  Mustin  in  his  hydroplane 
can  be  seen  flying  over  the  bay,  reconnoitering  in  that 
direction.  Puebla  is  the  key  to  the  taking  of  Mexico 
City  from  Vera  Cruz.  It  is  always  capitulating  to  some- 
body. It  will  doubtless  do  so  to  us.  In  1821  Iturbide 
took  it.  In  1847  it  was  taken  by  Scott;  in  1863  by  the 
French  soldiers  of  Napoleon.  In  the  battle  of  Puebla, 
1867,  there  was  a furious  engagement  between  Don  Por- 
firio  and  the  French.  It  is  a beautiful  old  city — some- 
times called  the  “Rome”  of  Mexico,  founded  by  Padre 
Motolinia,  situated  about  midway  between  the  coast 
and  the  Aztec  city.  It  is  crowded  with  churches  and 
convents,  though  many  of  these  latter  have  been  put 
to  other  uses;  however,  the  point  now  is  when  and  how 
our  men  will  reach  it.  The  blue  skies  and  the  deep 
barrancas  tell  no  tales. 

April  28th.  Tuesday. 

Yesterday  afternoon  Major  Butler  came  to  see  us. 
He  is  in  command  at  the  “roundhouse”  of  Mr.  Cum- 
22  325 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


mings’s  telegraphic  episode,  and  is  decidedly  downcast  at 
the  idea  that  some  peaceful  agreement  of  a makeshift 
order  will  be  reached.  He  is  like  a hungry  man  who  has 
been  given  thin  bread  and  butter  when  he  wants  beef- 
steak and  potatoes.  He  seemed,  also,  rather  embarrassed 
to  be  calling  on  us  peacefully,  on  the  Minnesota' s deck, 
instead  of  rescuing  us  after  a successful  storming  of  Cha- 
pultepec,  or  a siege  at  the  Embassy. 

Yesterday  a notice  was  sent  to  hundreds  of  newspapers 
at  home  (without  my  knowledge,  of  course)  that  I was 
getting  up  a Red  Cross  nurse  corps;  but  there  is  no  need 
for  it.  The  Solace  is  not  half  full,  the  hospitals  on  shore 
have  plenty  of  room,  and  the  ships’  doctors  are  not  too 
busy.  I had  said  that  if  fighting  continued  I would  re- 
turn from  New  York  with  the  first  corps  of  nurses  that 
came  out.  I have  a feeling  that  instead  of  pushing  on 
to  Panama  via  Mexico  and  Gautemala  we  are  going  to 
make  some  patchwork  with  the  A.  B.  C.  combination. 
It  can  be  only  a makeshift,  at  the  best,  and  in  any  event 
will  be  a reprieve  for  Huerta,  though  that  is  the  last 
thing  our  government  intends.  Its  heart  is  given  else- 
where. 

Last  night  Admiral  Cradock  and  Captain  Watson  came 
to  dinner.  No  mention  was  made  by  them  of  the  raising 
of  the  flag  over  Vera  Cruz  and  of  the  salutes  that  had  so 
thrilled  us.  I imagine  each  admiral  and  captain  in  port 
confined  his  activities  during  the  afternoon  to  cabling  to 
his  home  government.  The  only  thing  Sir  Christopher 
said  on  the  situation  was  to  mildly  inquire,  “Do  you 
know  yet  whether  you  are  at  war  or  not?”  Captain 
Simpson  had  an  excellent  dinner,  and  we  played  bridge 
afterward,  the  starry  night  concealing  the  fateful  flag 
above  the  English  railroad  terminal. 

A belated  norte  is  predicted,  but  my  land  eyes  see  no 
sign  of  it.  General  Funston,  of  Aguinaldo  and  San 

326 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


Francisco  earthquake  fame,  arrives  this  morning.  The 
army,  I understand,  has  more  suitable  equipment  and 
paraphernalia  for  the  work  of  occupation,  or  whatever 
they  call  it;  but  I am  unforgettably  thrilled  by  the 
majesty  and  might  of  our  great  navy. 


April  2Qth.  Morning. 

The  norte  still  threatens,  but  up  to  now,  with  falling 
glass,  there  has  been  only  a slight  stirring  of  heavy,  life- 
less air. 

Yesterday  morning  we  went  on  shore  at  ten,  and  found 
the  auto  before  the  door  of  the  Terminal  station  (other- 
wise Admiral  Fletcher’s  headquarters).  A French  chauf- 
feur, risen  up  from  somewhere,  was  sitting  in  it.  No  use 
inquiring  into  the  genesis  of  things  these  days.  We 
took  Captain  Simpson  down  to  his  old  headquarters  on 
the  Pasco  dc  los  Cocos.  He  wanted  to  see  Captain 
Niblack,  who  had  replaced  him  in  command.  Then  we 
drove  down  through  the  town  to  the  “roundhouse,” 
bowing  to  friends  and  acquaintances  on  every  side,  and 
feeling  unwontedly  comfortable  and  cool. 

The  roundhouse  makes  ideal  quarters — a huge  cool- 
ness, with  plenty  of  room  for  all  the  avocations  of  camp 
life.  After  wading  through  a stretch  of  sand  under  a 
blazing  sky,  we  found  Major  Butler  in  his  “head- 
quarters”— a freight-car — but  with  both  opposite  doors 
rolled  back,  making  the  car  cool  and  airy.  Two  of  his 
officers  were  with  him.  He  is  himself  a man  of  ex- 
haustless nervous  energy,  and  the  A.  B.  C.  combination 
hangs  like  a sword  over  his  head.  He  could  go  forward 
and  wipe  up  the  coast  to  Panama,  if  he  had  the  chance, 
he  and  his  set  of  dauntless  men.  A few  disconsolate-look- 
ing mules  and  horses  were  browsing  in  the  dry,  sandy 
grass  near  by;  they  had  been  taken  against  payment. 

“In  the  good  old  days  in  Nicaragua  it  was  otherwise. 

327 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


You  took  what  you  needed.  This  government  running 
things  is  too  pious  and  honest  to  suit  me,”  was  his 
disgruntled  observation  when  I asked  if  the  steeds  be- 
longed to  him. 

The  order  and  tranquillity  of  this  town  is  maintained 
by  force  of  arms  and  is  complete.  Since  the  desultory 
shots  heard  Friday  night,  sniping  being  then  in  full  force, 
there  has  been  silence  along  the  dark  waters;  silence  in 
every  cul-de-sac,  and  silence  on  every  roof. 

At  twelve  we  went  back  for  Captain  Simpson.  We 
had  a glimpse  of  Captain  Niblack  and  Captain  Gibbons, 
looking  very  big  and  effective  in  their  khaki  clothes. 
We  left  N.  at  the  Diligencias,  under  the  arcades,  where 
people  still  drink  lukewarm  liquids,  though  Captain 
Simpson  said  he  had  told  them  where  they  could  get 
cart-loads  of  ammonia  for  the  repairing  of  the  ice- 
plant.  At  one  o’clock  I had  a very  pleasant  tete-a-tMe 
lunch  with  Captain  Simpson.  He  was  naval  attach 4 
in  London  before  getting  the  Minnesota,  and  we  found 
ourselves,  for  once,  talking  of  people  and  things  far 
removed  from  Vera  Cruz.  A note  came  for  Nelson 
from  Captain  Huse,  saying  the  admiral  wanted  to 
confer  with  him,  and  Captain  Simpson  sent  a man 
to  find  Nelson  and  deliver  it.  Afterward,  Captain  Mof- 
fett of  the  Chester  came  on  board.  He  has  been  a 
friend  of  ours  from  the  first,  a very  agreeable  man,  al- 
ways au  courant  with  events  as  they  really  are.  We  are 
all  hoping  that  the  matter  of  the  affairs  of  Americans 
being  taken  out  of  the  hands  of  Sir  Lionel  and  given  to 
the  Brazilians  would  not  get  into  the  newspapers.  It 
might  lead  to  hard  feeling  between  the  nations  and  indi- 
viduals concerned.  Captain  Watson  of  the  Essex  then 
appeared  on  board,  with  the  Baron  and  Baroness  von 
Hiller,  and  we  all  went  in  his  launch  to  the  outer  har- 
bor, which  I had  not  yet  seen — the  view  being  completely 

328 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


blocked  by  the  Condt,  which  also  hid  the  handsome  Essex, 
really  very  near  us.  Oh,  the  glory  and  majesty  and  po- 
tency of  the  United  States  as  there  depicted!  Great 
dreadnoughts,  destroyers,  torpedo-boats,  every  imagin- 
able craft,  nearly  eighty  of  them — and  for  what?  To 
pry  a sagacious  and  strong  old  Indian  out  of  a place  and 
position  that  he  has  proved  himself  eminently  well  fitted 
to  fill.  Captain  Ballinger’s  hydroplane,  operated  by 
Mustin,  was  circling  above  the  harbor,  coming  from  time 
to  time  to  rest  upon  the  water  like  some  creature  equally 
at  home  in  sky  or  sea. 

In  the  evening  we  went  to  dine  with  the  von  Hillers, 
aboard  the  Ypiranga.  Admiral  Cradock  and  Captain 
Watson  were  also  there.  Captain  Watson  told  me  of  the 
return  of  Commander  Tweedie,  who  had  brought  down 
from  Soledad  in  his  private  car  two  hundred  and  six 
American  men,  women,  and  children,  whom  he  had 
found  dumped  on  sand-dunes,  and  who  had  been  without 
food  and  without  drink  for  twenty-four  hours.  I don’t 
know  the  details,  but  I will  ask  Tweedie  to  lunch  to- 
morrow. This  much  I do  know — that  the  English,  whose 
help  we  have  refused,  continue  to  display  their  strong 
arms  and  kind  hearts  and  have  been  angels  of  mercy 
to  our  ruined  and  distracted  countrymen. 

After  dinner  we  went  up  on  deck,  where  Captain 
Bonath  of  the  Ypiranga  joined  the  party.  He  was  more 
than  polite  to  N.  and  myself,  in  a frozen  way,  but 
the  air  was  charged  and  tense,  and  the  look  of  surprise, 
indignation,  and  resentment  not  yet  gone  from  his 
face.  In  the  course  of  the  conversation  it  came  out  that 
the  Brazilian  consul  in  Vera  Cruz  is  a Mexican!  There 
was  a scarcely  perceptible  shrug  of  the  shoulders  on  the 
part  of  the  captain,  and  Captain  Watson  caught  and 
then  avoided  his  eye.  To  all  inquiries  and  innuendoes 
we  have  only  answered  that,  as  Washington  seemed  to 

329 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


put  some  hope  in  the  A.  B.  C.  mediation  affair,  it  was 
thought  best,  at  home,  to  pay  Brazil  the  compliment  of 
putting  our  affairs  in  her  hands.  The  fact  is  that  all  that 
has  been  done  at  this  special  moment  for  our  needy  and 
suffering  ones  has  been  accomplished  by  the  long,  strong 
arm  of  England.  Rowan,  who  was  also  at  dinner,  came 
away  with  us  and  we  walked  along  the  pier  through  our 
lines  of  sentinels  pacing  everywhere  in  the  heavy  dark- 
ness. Away  back  in  the  country,  on  the  dim  distant  sand- 
dunes  they  are  pacing  too,  alert,  prepared  for  any  surprise. 

When  we  came  out  to  the  Minnesota  not  a breath  was 
stirring  over  the  glassy  water.  Captain  Simpson  met  us 
at  the  gangway.  I told  him  the  air  was  a little  tense  on 
shore,  and  added  that  I wanted  to  have  Tweedie  come 
to  see  us  to-morrow.  So  we  arranged  luncheon  for  to- 
day. Captain  Simpson  remarked,  with  his  usual  broad 
outlook,  “The  nations  will  have  to  work  out  things  in 
their  own  way;  but  we,  the  individuals,  can  always  show 
appreciation  and  courtesy.” 


“Minnesota,”  April  30th.  5 a.m. 

Yesterday,  at  9.30,  Captain  Watson  came  to  fetch  me 
to  go  to  San  Juan,  dashing  up  to  the  ship  in  great  style 
in  his  motor-launch.  Captain  Simpson  sent  Lieutenant 
Smyth,  who  was  eager  to  see  it,  with  us.  We  descended 
the  gangway  in  the  blazing  sun  and  got  into  the  launch, 
which,  however,  refused  to  move  further.  Finally,  after 
some  time  of  hot  rolling  on  the  glassy  water,  we  trans- 
ferred to  one  of  the  Minnesota' s boats,  and  in  a few  min- 
utes I found  myself  landing,  after  two  months,  at  the 
dreadful  and  picturesque  fortress,  under  its  new  flag. 
The  old  one,  let  us  hope,  will  never  again  fly  over  hunger, 
insanity,  despair,  and  disease.1 

We  found  Captain  Chamberlain  in  his  office.  He  is  a 

1 The  dungeons  of  San  Juan  are  again  full — E.O’S. 

330 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


strong,  fine-looking  young  man.  Indeed,  our  marines  and 
blue-jackets  are  a magnificent-looking  set,  hard  as  nails, 
and  endlessly  eager.  Captain  Chamberlain  was  sur- 
rounded by  all  the  signs  of  “occupation,”  in  more  senses 
than  one.  Records,  arms,  ammunition,  uniforms  of  the 
“old  regime”  were  piled  about,  waiting  till  the  more 
vital  issues  of  flesh  and  blood,  life  and  death,  have  been 
disposed  of.  Captain  Chamberlain  was  in  New  York 
only  a week  ago,  and  now  finds  himself  set  to  clean  up, 
in  all  ways,  this  human  dumping-ground  of  centuries. 
He  detailed  an  orderly  to  accompany  us,  and  we  went 
through  a door  on  which  the  Spanish  orders  of  the  day 
were  still  to  be  seen  written  in  chalk. 

We  started  through  the  big  machine-house,  which  was 
in  excellent  up-keep,  so  the  officers  said,  full  of  all  sorts 
of  valuable  material,  especially  electrical.  This  brought 
us  out  on  the  big  central  patio,  where  three  groups  of 
fifty-one  prisoners  each  sat  blinking  in  the  unaccus- 
tomed light,  and  waiting  to  have  straw  hats  portioned 
out  to  them,  temporarily  shielding  their  heads  from  the 
sun  with  rags,  dishes,  pans,  baskets,  and  the  like.  An 
extraordinary  coughing,  sneezing,  spitting,  and  wheezing 
was  going  on.  Even  in  the  hot  sunshine  these  men  were 
pursued  by  the  specters  of  bronchitis,  pneumonia, 
asthma,  and  kindred  ills.  We  went  into  a dim  dungeon, 
just  cleared  of  these  one  hundred  and  fifty-three  men. 
It  seemed  as  if  we  must  cut  the  air  to  get  in,  it  was  so 
thick  with  human  miasmas ; and  for  hours  afterward  an 
acrid,  stifling  something  remained  in  my  lungs,  though 
I kept  inhaling  deeply  the  sun-baked  air.  As  my  eyes 
became  accustomed  to  the  darkness,  I looked  about ; the 
dripping  walls  were  oozing  with  filth;  there  were  wet 
floors,  and  no  furniture  or  sanitary  fittings  of  any  kind. 
A few  shallow  saucepans,  such  as  I had  seen  rations 
poured  into  at  my  former  visit,  were  lying  about.  The 

33i 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


rest  was  empty,  dark,  reeking  horror.  But  God  knows 
the  place  was  abundantly  hung  and  carpeted  and  fur- 
nished with  human  misery,  from  the  dull,  physical  ache 
of  the  half-witted  peon,  to  the  exquisite  torture  of  the 
man  of  mind  habituated  to  cleanliness  and  comfort. 
What  appalling  dramas  have  there  been  enacted  I dare 
not  think. 

One  was  told  me.  A man,  not  long  imprisoned, 
accidentally  found,  in  the  darkness,  a stick  and  a 
thick,  empty  bottle.  With  the  bottle  he  drove  the 
stick  deep  into  the  brain  of  a man,  unknown  to  him,  who 
was  dozing  near  him.  When  taken  out  to  be  shot  he 
was  found  to  be  of  the  educated  class.  He  said,  in  un- 
availing self-defense,  that  he  had  been  crazed  by  the 
darkness  and  the  suffocating  stench. 

On  coming  out  into  the  blessed  air  again,  we  exam- 
ined at  rather  close  range  these  lines  of  men  just  re- 
admitted to  the  fellowship  of  sun  and  sky.  They  pre- 
sented a varied  and  disheartening  study  for  the  eth- 
nologist— or  conqueror.  There  was  every  type,  from 
half-breed  to  full  Indian;  the  majority  of  the  faces 
were  pitted  by  smallpox.  A few  of  the  men  had  small, 
treasured  bundles,  to  which  they  clung,  while  others,  ex- 
cept for  the  rags  that  covered  them,  were  as  unfettered 
by  possessions  as  when  they  were  born.  Thick,  matted, 
black  hair  and  irregular  growths  of  stubby,  Indian 
beards  gave  their  faces  a savage  aspect.  At  the  end  of 
one  of  the  lines  were  two  very  young  boys,  not  more  than 
thirteen  or  fourteen,  their  faces  still  fresh  and  their  eyes 
bright.  I wanted  to  ask  why  they  were  there,  but  their 
line  had  received  its  hats,  and  they  were  marched  out 
through  the  portcullis  to  the  beach. 

Many  of  the  inmates  of  San  Juan  were  conscripts 
awaiting  the  call  to  “fight”  for  their  country;  others 
were  civil  delinquents,  murderers,  thieves.  Most  of  the 

33* 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


poor  brutes  had  a vacant  look  on  their  faces.  The  politi- 
cal prisoners  had  already  been  freed.  Two  of  the  big 
dungeons  were  still  full.  There  were  five  or  six  hundred 
in  one  space,  pending  the  cleaning  out  of  the  empty  ones, 
when  they  were  to  be  redistributed.  Captain  Chamber- 
lain  was  in  the  patio,  trying  to  expedite  matters,  when 
we  came  out  of  the  first  dungeon.  I think  he  had  some 
sixty  men  to  assist  him,  and  was  wrestling  with  book  and 
pencil,  trying  to  make  some  sort  of  classification  and 
record.  We  walked  over  to  another  corner  to  inspect  a 
dungeon  said  to  have  chains  on  the  walls  and  other 
horrors  still  in  place.  Between  the  thick  bars  of  one 
where  those  sentenced  to  death  for  civil  crimes  were 
kept  peered  a sinister  face,  pockmarked,  loose  of  mouth, 
and  dull-eyed.  I asked  the  owner  of  it  what  he  had  done. 
“Matt”  (“I  killed”),  he  answered,  briefly  and  hope- 
lessly. He  knew  he  was  to  pay  the  penalty. 

There  has  not  yet  been  time  for  our  men  to  investigate 
fully  the  meager,  inexact  records  of  the  prison.  We  went 
through  the  patio,  under  the  big  portcullis,  along  the 
way  leading  by  the  canals  or  moats  to  the  graveyard 
by  the  beach.  This  was  speakingly  empty.  There  were 
only  a few  graves,  and  those  seemed  to  be  of  officers  or 
commanders  of  the  castle  and  members  of  their  families 
long  since  dead.  With  mortality  so  constantly  at  work, 
and  with  no  graves  to  be  found,  testimony,  indeed,  was 
given  by  the  sharks  swimming  in  the  waters.  A simpler 
process  than  burial  was  in  practice:  a hunting  in  the 
darkness,  a shoveling  out  of  bodies,  a throwing  to  the 
sea — the  ever-ready. 

As  we  passed  along  one  of  the  ledges  we  could  hear 
sounds  of  life,  almost  of  animation,  coming  through  the 
loopholes  that  slanted  in  through  the  masonry — a yard 
and  a half  deep  by  four  inches  wide.  These  four-inch 
spaces  were  covered  by  a thick  iron  bar.  When  I had 

333 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


last  passed  there,  a dead,  despairing  silence  reigned. 
Now,  all  knew  that  something  had  happened,  that  more 
was  to  happen,  and  that  good  food  was  the  order  of  the 
day.  Coming  back,  we  met  the  second  detachment  of 
fifty-one,  being  marched  out  to  the  sandy  strip  at  the 
ocean-end  of  the  fortress.  Many  of  them  will  be  freed 
to-day  to  join  those  other  hundreds  that  I saw.  They 
will  know  again  the  responsibilities,  as  well  as  the  joys  of 
freedom,  but,  alas,  they  will  be  of  very  little  use  to 
the  state  or  to  themselves.  We  walked  up  the  broad 
stairs  leading  to  the  flat  roofs  covering  the  dungeons. 
A squad  of  our  men  had  established  themselves  on  the 
wide  landing,  with  their  folding-cots,  rifles,  and  all  the 
paraphernalia  of  their  business.  Captain  Watson  said, 
as  we  got  upon  the  azotea,  “The  holes  in  the  floor  were 
ordered  cut  by  Madero  when  he  came  into  power.”  I 
told  him  that  I didn’t  think  so,  they  had  seemed  to  me 
very  old;  and  when  we  examined  them  the  raised  edges 
were  found  to  be  of  an  obsolete  form  and  shape  of  brick, 
and  the  iron  barrings  seemed  to  have  centuries  of  rust 
on  them.  Nothing  was  changed.  Nothing  had  ever  been 
changed.  It  remained  for  a foreign  hand  to  open  the 
doors. 

The  torpedo-house,  which  was  near  our  landing, 
seemed  business-like,  clean,  and  very  expensive,  even  to 
my  inexpert  eyes.  Stores  were  being  landed  by  one  of 
the  Minnesota' s boats — great  sides  of  beef,  bread,  coffee, 
vegetables,  sugar.  I was  so  thankful  to  see  them,  and  to 
know  that  hunger  no  longer  stalked  right  under  our 
bows. 

I reached  home  in  time  for  two  baths  and  to  change  all 
my  clothing  before  one  o’clock,  when  Commander 
Tweedie  arrived  for  lunch.  He  had  a most  interesting 
tale  to  tell  of  his  journey  down  from  Mexico  City,  and 
told  it  in  the  characteristic,  deprecating  way  of  an  Eng- 

334 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


lishman  who  has  done  something,  but  who  neither  wants 
credit  nor  feels  that  he  has  done  anything  to  deserve  it. 
He  came  back  as  far  as  Soledad  in  a special  train,  with 
a guard  of  twenty-five  of  the  famous  Twenty-ninth. 
At  Soledad  he  saw  a miserable,  hungry,  thirsty,  worn- 
out  party  of  Americans,  men,  women,  and  children,  from 
Cordoba.  Most  of  them  had  been  in  jail  for  eight  days, 
and  then  found  themselves  stranded  at  Soledad  for 
twenty-four  hours,  without  food  or  drink,  huddled  up  by 
the  railroad  station.  Tweedie  is  a man  of  resource. 
Instead  of  getting  back  to  Vera  Cruz  and  reporting  on 
the  condition,  he  made  up  his  mind  that  he  would  take 
the  party  on  with  him,  or  stay  behind  himself.  After 
some  telegraphing  to  Maass,  with  whom  he  had,  fortu- 
nately, drunk  a copita  (oh,  the  power  of  the  wicked  copita!) 
as  he  passed  his  garrison,  he  finally  got  permission  to 
start  for  Vera  Cruz  with  the  derelicts,  under  the  fiction 
of  their  being  English. 

They  had  to  walk  the  twenty  blazing  kilometers  from 
Tejeria,  a sort  of  burning  plowshare  ordeal,  one  old 
lady  and  various  children  being  carried  in  blankets.  He 
gave  them  every  available  drop  of  liquid  he  had  in  his 
car,  and  he  said  the  way  the  children  lapped  up  the 
ginger-ale  and  lemonade  was  very  amusing.  Still  under 
the  auspices  of  Carden,  a train-load  of  five  or  six  hundred 
started,  last  night  or  this  morning,  for  Coatzacoalcos. 
Sir  Lionel,  fearing  a panic,  decided  not  to  say,  till  he  gets 
off  this  last  train-load,  that  our  affairs  are  no  longer  in  his 
hands.  I think  magnanimity  can  scarcely  go  further; 
my  heart  is  full  of  gratitude  for  the  inestimable  services 
the  English  have  rendered  my  countrypeople. 

At  four  o’clock  I -went  on  shore  to  see  Admiral  Fletcher. 
Ensign  Crisp  (wearing  side-arms)  accompanied  me.  Cap- 
tain Simpson  thinks  it  more  suitable  to  send  some  one 
with  me,  but  never,  in  all  her  four  hundred  years  or  so 

335 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


of  existence,  has  Vera  Cruz  been  safer,  more  cheerful, 
more  prosperous,  more  hygienic.  The  zopilotes  circling 
the  town  must  think  mournfully  of  the  days  when  every- 
thing was  thrown  into  the  street  for  all  that  flies  or 
crawls  to  get  fat  and  multiply  on. 

I found  Admiral  Fletcher  in  his  headquarters  at  the 
Terminal,  serene  and  powerful.  He  said,  “I  go  out  to 
the  Florida  to-morrow.  I have  finished  my  work  here. 
Things  are  ready  to  be  turned  over  to  General  Funston.” 
I told  him  not  only  of  my  admiration  for  his  work  during 
these  last  days,  and  what  it  entailed,  but  that  more  than 
all  I admired  his  work  of  keeping  peace  in  Mexican 
waters  for  fourteen  months.  A dozen  incidents  could 
have  made  for  disturbance  but  for  his  calm  judgment, 
his  shrewd  head,  and  the  big,  very  human  heart  beat- 
ing in  his  breast ; and  I said  to  him  what  I have  repeated 
on  many  occasions,  that  it  is  due  to  Huerta,  to  Admiral 
Fletcher,  and  to  Nelson  that  peace  has  been  maintained 
during  these  long,  difficult  months.  It  was  destined  for 
an  incident  outside  the  radius  of  the  power  of  these 
three  to  bring  about  the  military  occupation. 

We  spoke  a few  words  of  the  old  Indian,  still  wrestling 
on  the  heights.  Admiral  Fletcher  ended  by  saying,  in 
his  quiet,  convincing  manner,  “Doubtless  when  I get  to 
Washington  I will  understand  that  point  of  view.  Up 
to  now  I know  it  only  from  this  end.” 

I told  him  how  I hated  half-measures ; how  they  were 
disastrous  in  every  relation  of  life — family,  civil,  public, 
and  international — and  never  had  that  been  proven  more 
clearly  than  here.  Even  he  does  not  seem  to  know 
whether  we  have  brought  all  this  tremendous  machinery 
to  the  shores  of  Mexico  simply  to  retreat  again,  or 
whether  we  are  to  go  on.  As  I went  away,  I could  but 
tell  him  once  more  of  my  respect  and  affection  for  him- 
self and  my  admiration  for  his  achievements.  I passed 

336 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


out  of  the  room,  with  tears  in  my  eyes.  I had  seen  a 
great  and  good  man  at  the  end  of  a long  and  successful 
task.  Later,  other  honors  will  come  to  him.  Probably 
he  will  get  the  fleet.  But  never  again  will  he,  for  four- 
teen long  months,  keep  peace,  with  his  battle-ships  filling 
a rich  and  coveted  harbor.  When  all  is  said  and  done, 
that  is  his  greatest  work. 


XXV 


Our  recall  from  Mexican  soil — A historic  dinner  with  General  Funston — 
The  navy  turns  over  the  town  of  Vera  Cruz  to  the  army — The  march 
of  the  six  thousand  blue-jackets — Evening  on  the  Minnesota. 


ESTERDAY,  April  30th,  Admiral  Fletcher  turned 


“La  Villa  Rica  de  la  Vera  Cruz”  over  to  the  army. 
It  was  perfectly  quiet,  continuing  to  enjoy  unknown 
prosperity.  But  of  that  later.  At  eleven  o’clock,  as  we 
were  about  to  go  on  shore,  an  envelope  was  brought  to 
N.  On  opening  it  he  found  it  was  his  recall  from  Mexi- 
can soil,  and  we  forthwith  departed  for  the  shore  to  see 
Admiral  Fletcher.  He  was  receiving  visitors,  for  the 
last  time,  at  his  headquarters,  and  N.  was  imme- 
diately admitted.  Admiral  Badger  passed  through  the 
antechamber,  in  his  strong,  dynamic  way,  as  I waited 
with  Captain  Huse,  whose  face  and  personality  are 
graven  on  my  memory  as  he  appeared  in  my  compart- 
ment that  afternoon  at  Tejeria. 

Soon  I went  into  Admiral  Fletcher’s  room,  a great, 
square,  high-ceilinged  room,  where  he  and  Captain  Huse 
had  slept  and  worked  during  all  those  strange  days,  with 
another  almost  equally  large,  a sort  of  Neronian  bath- 
room, opening  out  of  it.  A breeze  nearly  always  blows 
in  from  the  sea.  N.  was  turning  over  the  motor  to 
the  navy,  where  it  will  be  of  great  service.  It  was 
a feat  to  get  it  down  here  with  no  further  injury 
than  a damaged  clutch,  which  the  clever  seamen  put  in 
order.  There  was  a good  deal  of  coming  and  going  at 


May  1st. 


338 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


headquarters,  so  we  soon  left  and  went  to  call  on  Gen- 
eral Funston  at  General  Maass’s  old  headquarters.  It 
ended  by  our  remaining  to  dinner  with  General  Funston 
— his  first  dinner  in  General  Maass’s  home. 

I suppose  I am  not  only  the  only  woman  who  has 
had  a meal  there  under  two  flags,  but  the  only  person. 
I went  up  the  broad  stairs  with  Colonel  Alvord,  the 
stairs  I had  last  descended  on  General  Maass’s  arm. 
When  I got  there  General  Funston  was  in  the  large  front 
room  where  the  Maass  family  had  lived  and  breathed 
and  had  its  being.  After  greeting  him,  my  eye  roved 
over  the  room.  On  the  table,  with  its  white  drawn- 
work  cloth,  was  the  same  centerpiece  of  white  coral 
(from  which  hung  bits  of  bright  green  artificial  moss)  and 
the  large  silver  cup;  there  was  the  silent  piano,  with  its 
piles  of  worn  music;  the  porcelain  ship  (sad  augury), 
filled  with  faded  artificial  roses;  the  bead  curtains  divid- 
ing the  big  room  in  half ; the  rocking-chair  of  which  the 
family  had  been  so  proud ; even  the  doily  that  came  off 
on  my  back!  We  went  in  almost  immediately  to  the 
large,  bountifully  spread  table,  where  the  food  was 
served  in  the  Maass  china.  I,  of  course,  sat  on  General 
Funston’s  right,  and  N.  on  his  left.  His  fine,  alert  staff, 
ready  and  anxious  to  take  over  the  town  and  the  country, 
the  hemisphere,  or  anything  else,  made  up  the  party. 
They  were  all  very  nice  about  my  being  there  “to  grace 
their  first  meal.” 

General  Funston  is  small,  quick,  and  vigorous.  There 
is  a great  atmosphere  of  competency  about  him,  and  he 
is,  they  tell  me,  a magnificent  field  officer.  He  had  been 
to  Mexico  nineteen  years  before,  thinking  to  invest 
money  in  coffee ; now  in  the  turning  wheel  of  life  his  rep- 
utation is  being  invested  in  the  situation  which  he  is 
more  than  equal  to.  They  are  all  afraid  that  some  hybrid 
breed  of  “dove  of  peace” — “peace  at  any  price”  (or 

339 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


“prep^ed11658  for  more  kicks”  — as  some  one  gloomily- 
observed)  will  flap  his  wings  over  the  land.  The  army  is 
ready,  willing,  and  able  to  bring  to  a successful  issue, 
in  the  face  of  any  difficulty,  any  task  set  it.  I am 
sure  that  the  officers  feel  the  cruelty  of  half-measures, 
cruelty  both  to  our  own  people  and  to  Mexico;  they 
know  war  can’t  be  more  disastrous  than  what  we  are 
doing.  The  dinner  of  ham,  with  cream  sauce,  potatoes, 
macaroni,  beans,  and  pickles,  came  to  an  end  all  too  soon. 
Coffee  and  cigarettes  were  served  as  we  still  sat  around 
the  big  table.  My  eyes  rested  admiringly  on  those  half- 
dozen  strong,  competent  men  in  their  khaki  suits.  It  is 
the  most  becoming  of  all  manly  apparel — flannel  shirt, 
with  low,  pointed  collar,  trousers  like  riding-breeches, 
leather  leggings,  cartridge-belts,  and  side-arms  all  in 
one  tone.  They  are  going  to  pack  the  Maass  relics 
and  turn  them  over  to  their  owners.  Admiral  Fletcher 
had  sent  a message  to  General  Maass,  promising  to  for- 
ward all  their  effects.  I must  say  I had  a real  concep- 
tion of  “fortunes  of  war”  when  they  hunted  for  butter- 
dishes and  coffee-cups  in  the  Maasses’  gaudy  china-closet. 
They  had  only  got  into  the  house  in  the  morning,  and 
had  had  no  time  for  anything  except  the  arrangements 
for  taking  over  the  town. 

General  Funston  said  he  had  a little  daughtef,  Eliz- 
abeth, bom  to  him  the  day  he  arrived  in  Vera  Cruz. 
He  also  told  us  he  had  been  routed  out  of  bed,  one  night, 
by  extras,  saying  “O’Shaughnessy  Assassinated!  Prai- 
rie Sunk!”  and  he  felt  that  the  moment  of  departure 
might,  indeed,  be  near.  He  gave  N.  an  historic  pass 
to  go  between  the  lines  at  any  time,  and  we  left  soon 
afterward,  as  it  was  nearing  the  hour  for  the  officers  to 
go  to  the  function  on  the  Sanidad  pier — “a  little  Fun- 
ston,” as  Captain  Huse  called  it.  I shook  hands  with 
them  all  and  wished  the  general  “Godspeed  to  the 

340 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 

heights.”  Whatever  is  necessary,  he  and  his  strong, 
faithful  men  will  do.  We  walked  through  the  hot,  white 
streets  to  the  Plaza,  and  were  soon  overtaken  by  Gen- 
eral Funston  and  his  chief  of  staff,  riding  in  a disreputable 
coche  drawn  by  a pair  of  meager  gray  nags.  I believe 
the  navy  arrived  on  the  scene  in  our  smart  auto.  A few 
minutes  later  I saw  the  general,  in  his  khaki,  standing  by 
Admiral  Fletcher,  who  was  in  immaculate  white  on  the 
Sanidad  pier. 

Then  began  the  wonderful  march  of  six  thousand  blue- 
jackets and  marines  back  to  their  ships.  The  men  had 
had  their  precious  baptism  of  fire.  As  ship’s  battalion 
after  battalion  passed,  there  was  cheering,  lifting  of  hats 
to  the  colors,  and  many  eyes  were  wet.  The  men 
marched  magnificently,  with  a great,  ringing  tread,  and 
made  a splendid  showing.  If  the  old  Indian  on  the  hill 
could  have  seen  them  he  would  have  recognized  all  the 
might  and  majesty  of  our  land  and  the  bootlessness  of 
any  struggle.  The  passing  of  the  troops  and  their 
embarkment  took  exactly  thirty-seven  minutes.  They 
seemed  to  vanish  away,  to  be  dissolved  into  the  sea, 
their  natural  element.  For  a moment  only  the  har- 
bor looked  like  some  old  print  of  Nelsonian  embark- 
ings — Trafalgar,  the  Nile,  Copenhagen,  I know  not  what! 
The  navy  flowed  out  and  the  army  flowed  in.  There  were 
untold  cinematograph  and  photograph  men,  and  the 
world  will  know  the  gallant  sight.  N.  stood  with 
Admiral  Fletcher  and  General  Funston. 

Sometimes,  alone  in  Mexico  City,  with  the  whole  re- 
sponsibility of  the  Embassy  on  his  shoulders,  N. 
would  be  discouraged,  and  I,  too,  fearful  of  the  ultimate 
end.  Had  I realized  the  might  and  magnificence  of  the 
navy  represented  in  the  nearest  harbor,  ready  and  able 
to  back  up  our  international  undertakings  and  our  na- 
tional dignity,  I think  I would  never  have  had  a mo- 
23  34i 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


merit’s  despondency.  I said  something  of  this  to  Cap- 
tain Simpson,  and  he  answered,  “Yes,  but  remember  you 
were  in  the  woods.” 

Admiral  Busch  took  us  back  to  the  Minnesota,  where 
we  arrived  in  time  to  see  the  returned  men  drawn  up 
on  the  decks  to  be  inspected  by  Captain  Simpson, 
who  gave  them  a few  warm,  understanding  words  of 
commendation.  Some  were  missing.  Peace  to  them! 

Later. 

We  went  again  on  shore,  leaving  Nelson  at  the  Carlos 
V.,  to  return  the  call  of  the  Spanish  captain  in  Mexico 
City.  I was  so  tired  out  with  the  sun  and  the  long  day 
that  I stayed  in  the  small  boat.  I simply  had  not  the 
nervous  energy  to  climb  the  gangway  and  go  on  board, 
though  I would  have  liked  to  see  the  ship.  After  the 
visit  we  went  and  sat  under  the  portales  of  the  Dili- 
gencias  for  an  hour  or  so,  to  watch  the  busy  scene.  The 
ice-plant  of  the  Diligencias  was  not  yet  in  working  order, 
so  the  usual  dirty,  lukewarm  drinks  were  being  served  to 
disgusted  patrons.  In  the  Palacio  Municipal,  the  Second 
Infantry  regiment  was  quartered,  and  under  its  portales 
they  had  put  up  their  cook-stoves  and  were  preparing 
their  early  evening  meal,  before  going  to  their  night- 
work  on  the  outposts.  Several  dozen  fat,  sleek,  well- 
dressed  Mexicans  were  being  shoved  off  at  the  point  of 
three  or  four  bayonets.  I asked  Ensign  McNeir  why  it 
was,  and  he  said: 

“Oh,  that  is  the  bread-line.  They  can’t  be  bothered 
with  it  now.”  The  “bread-line,”  which  at  times 
probably  includes  one-third  of  the  population  of  Vera 
Cruz,  had  evidently  had  good  success  at  other  points, 
and  had  been  enjoying  a workless,  well-fed  day;  for  its 
members  had  disposed  themselves  comfortably  on  bench 
or  curb  of  the  Plaza,  and  listened  to  the  strains  of  the 

342 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


“Star-spangled  Banner,”  “Dixie,”  and  “The  Dollar 
Princess” — provided  for  their  entertainment  by  the 
thoughtful,  lavish  invaders.  Even  the  little  flower-girls 
seemed  to  have  on  freshly  starched  petticoats;  the 
bright-eyed  newsboys  had  clean  shirts,  and  the  swarming 
bootblacks  looked  as  spruce  as  their  avocation  per- 
mitted. A sort  of  millennium  has  come  to  the  city ; and 
money,  too,  will  flow  like  water  when  pay-day  comes 
for  the  troops. 

Richard  Harding  Davis  came  up  to  our  table.  His 
quick  eye  misses  nothing.  If  there  is  anything  dull  to 
record  of  Vera  Cruz,  it  won’t  be  dull  when  it  gets  to  the 
world  through  that  vivid,  beautiful  prose  of  his.  We 
teased  him  about  his  hat,  telling  him  there  had  been 
many  loud  bands  in  town  that  day,  marine  bands,  army 
bands,  and  navy  bands,  but  nothing  quite  as  loud  as  his 
blue-and-white  polka-dot  hat-band.  We  said  he  could 
be  spotted  at  any  distance. 

He  answered,  quite  unabashed:  “But  isn’t  recogni- 
tion what  is  wanted  in  Mexico?” 

Jack  London  also  came  up  to  speak  to  us.  Burnside, 
his  hair  closely  cropped  and  his  heart  as  warm  as  ever, 
sat  with  us  during  the  many  comings  and  goings  of 
others.  Captain  Lansing,  a very  smart-looking  officer, 
had  recently  been  transferred  from  the  pomp  and  circum- 
stance of  Madrid,  where  he  had  been  military  attach#,  to 
the  jumping-off  place  of  the  world,  Texas  City.  He  said 
that  after  a year  in  the  dust  or  mud  and  general  flatness 
and  staleness  of  that  place,  Vera  Cruz  seemed  a gay 
paradise.  Lieutenant  Newbold,  from  Washington,  and 
many  others,  were  also  presented.  They  all  looked  so 
strong,  so  sound,  so  eager.  I think  eagerness  is  the  qual- 
ity I shall  best  remember  of  the  men  at  Vera  Cruz. 
Burnside  walked  back  to  the  boat  with  us,  the  tropical 
night  falling  in  that  five  minutes’  walk.  General  Fun- 

343 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 

ston’s  first  official  orders  were  already  up  with  the  formal 
notification  of  his  authority: 

Headquarters  United  States  Expeditionary  Forces. 

Vera  Cruz,  April  30th,  1914. 

GENERAL  ORDER  No.  1 

The  undersigned,  pursuant  to  instructions  from  the  President  of  the 
United  States,  hereby  assumes  command  of  all  the  United  States  forces 
in  this  city. 

Frederick  Funston, 

Brig.  Gen.  U.  S.  Army  Commanding. 

Already  in  those  short  hours  since  the  army  “flowed” 
in,  the  soldiers  had  installed  themselves  as  though  they 
had  been  there  forever.  In  the  dusk  we  saw  their  tents 
stretched,  their  bake-ovens  up,  and  the  smell  of  fresh 
bread  was  mingled  with  the  warm  sea  odors.  It  was 
“efficiency”  indeed. 

May  3d. 

This  morning  the  news  that  Mr.  Bryan  will  not  per- 
mit any  fighting  during  the  period  of  armistice  and  media- 
tion will  dampen  much  of  the  eagerness  I mentioned. 

The  full  complement  of  the  blue- jackets  being  again 
on  board,  there  is  a lively  sound  of  ship-cleaning  going  on. 
Everything  seemed  immaculate  before.  We  have  been 
so  comfortable,  so  cool,  so  well  looked  after  in  every  way 
on  this  man-of-war.  But  I shall  not  soon  forget  the  face 
of  the  young  officer  just  home  from  outpost  duty  who 
discovered  that  my  French  maid  was  occupying  his  cabin ! 

Last  night,  as  we  sat  talking  on  the  deck,  looking  out 
over  the  jeweled  harbor,  the  gentle,  peaceful  bugle-call 
to  “taps”  sounded  suddenly  from  San  Juan  Ulua. 
A big  light  hung  over  the  entrance  to  Captain  Cham- 
berlain’s quarters.  It  is  balm  on  my  soul  that  the  pest- 
hole of  centuries  is  open  to  the  sun  and  light,  the  bolts 
hanging  slack,  and  comparative  peace  and  plenty  every- 

344 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


where.  I say  comparative  peace,  because  those  impris- 
oned for  murder  and  foul  crimes  are  still  to  be  dealt  with. 
When  I first  visited  the  prison  under  the  Mexican  flag 
Captain  McDougall  and  I asked  the  sentry  who  showed 
us  around  if  there  had  been  many  executions  lately. 

He  answered,  “Since  Thursday ” (this  was  Sunday) 
“ only  by  order  of  the  colonel!”  Whether  this  was  true 
or  not  I don’t  know;  but  the  guard  gave  it  out  with  the 
air  of  one  making  an  ordinary  statement.  Captain 
McDougall  asked  because,  from  the  Mayflower,  anchored 
almost  where  we  now  are,  he  had  heard  many  a shot  at 
night  and  in  the  early  morning. 

Immediately  after  dinner  we  had  gone  up  on  deck.  A 
delicious  breeze  was  turning  and  twisting  through  the 
soft,  thick,  tropical  night.  Every  night  a large  screen  is 
put  up  on  the  after  part  of  the  ship,  and  the  officers  and 
crew  gather  to  watch  the  “movies,”  seating  themselves 
without  distinction  of  rank.  The  turrets  are  garlanded 
with  men ; even  the  tops  of  the  mast  had  their  human  dec- 
orations. It  was  most  refreshing,  after  the  hot,  historic 
day,  to  sit  quietly  on  the  cool,  dim  deck  and  watch  the  old 
tales  of  love,  burglars,  kidnapping,  and  kindred  recitals 
unroll  themselves  from  the  films.  But  it  was  more 
beautiful  later  on,  as  we  sat  quietly  on  the  deck  in  the 
darkness,  watching  the  wondrous  scene  about  us.  A 
thousand  lights  were  flashing  across  the  water,  catching 
each  dark  ripple.  The  “city  of  ships,”  as  I call  Vera 
Cruz  harbor,  is  constantly  throwing  its  flash-lights,  its 
semaphores,  its  signalings  of  all  kinds,  and  water  and 
sky  reflect  them  a hundredfold. 

Just  after  the  peaceful  sounding  of  “Taps”  from  the 
fortress,  Admiral  Fletcher  and  Captain  Huse  came  on 
board  to  pay  us  a farewell  visit.  Admiral  Fletcher’s 
courtesy  is  always  of  the  most  delicate  kind,  coming 
from  the  depths  of  his  kind  heart  and  his  broad  under- 

345 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


standing  of  men  and  life.  He  and  N.  walked  up  and 
down  the  deck  for  a while,  planning  about  our  getting 
off.  He  intends  that  the  charge  shall  depart  from  Mexi- 
can waters  with  all  fitting  dignity.  After  a warm  hand- 
clasp he  and  Captain  Huse  went  off  over  the  summer 
sea.  Standing  at  the  rail,  we  watched  the  barge  disappear 
into  a wondrous  marquetry  design  of  darkness  and  light, 
and  knew  that  some  things  would  never  be  again. 

Later  we  got  the  inclosed  radio  from  the  Arkansas , 
Admiral  Badger’s  flag-ship,  to  say  the  Yankton  would  be 
put  at  our  disposal  on  the  morrow  to  take  us  to  our 
native  shores,  and  so  will  the  story  end.  I am  homesick 
for  my  beautiful  plateau  and  the  vibrant,  multicolored  life 
I have  been  leading.  Adelante!  But  I have  little  taste 
for  dinners,  teas,  and  the  usual  train-train,  though  a few 
expeditions  to  dress-makers  and  milliners  will  be  profit- 
able to  me  as  well  as  to  them.  As  you  know,  I had  no 
time  to  have  my  personal  things  packed  at  the  Embassy, 
and  what  I did  bring  with  me  reposed  for  twenty-four 
hours  on  the  sand-dunes  at  Tejeria,  between  the  Mexican 
lines  and  ours.  My  big  yellow  trunk  is  reported  at  the 
Terminal  station.  What  is  left  in  it  will  be  revealed 
later.  They  may  not  call  it  war  in  Washington,  but  when 
a woman  loses  her  wardrobe  she  finds  it  difficult  to  call 
it  peace.  N.’s  famous  collection  of  boots,  forty  or  fifty 
pairs,  evidently  left  those  sand-dunes  on  Aztec  or  mestizo 
feet.  My  silver  foxes  and  other  furs  I don’t  worry  about. 
Under  that  blistering  sky  and  on  that  hot,  cutting  sand 
they  could  offer  no  temptations. 

Joe  Patterson  has  just  been  on  board.  He  came  down 
with  the  army  on  the  transport  Hancock,  sui  generis,  as 
usual,  his  big  body  dressed  in  the  loosest  of  tan  coverings. 
He  is  always  electric  and  interesting,  running  with  a 
practised  touch  over  many  subjects.  He  said  he  wanted 
not  an  interview  with  N.  for  his  newspaper  (which 

346 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


would  finish  N.  “dead”),  but  to  make  some  account 
that  would  interest  the  public  and  not  get  him  (N.)  into 
trouble.  I shall  be  interested  to  see  what  he  does.  The 
boresome  news  of  the  armistice  has  made  him  feel  that 
he  wants  to  get  back,  and  I dare  say  there  will  be  many 
a departure.  Nelson  will  not  allow  himself  to  be  inter- 
viewed by  a soul.  It  is  impossible  to  please  everybody, 
but,  oh,  how  easy  it  is  to  dis please  everybody ! 


XXVI 


Homeward  bound — Dead  to  the  world  in  Sarah  Bernhardt’s  luxurious 
cabin — Admiral  Badger’s  farewell — “The  Father  of  Waters” — Mr. 
Bryan’s  earnest  message — Arrival  at  Washington — Adelante! 

Sunday,  May  3d. 

I AM  writing  in  the  depths  of  my  cabin  on  the  yacht 
Yankton,  which  is  carrying  us  to  New  Orleans  as  the 
crow  flies — a special  trip  for  the  purpose.  In  another 
walk  of  life  the  Yankton  was  known  as  La  Cttopatre,  and 
belonged  to  Sarah  Bernhardt.  Now  I,  much  the  worse 
for  wear,  occupy  her  cabin.  She  has  never  brought  a 
representative  of  the  United  States  from  the  scene  of 
war  before,  but  she  is  Admiral  Badger’s  special  ship, 
carries  mails,  special  travelers,  etc.,  and  went  around 
the  world  with  the  fleet.  The  fleet  met  a typhoon,  and 
all  were  alarmed  for  the  safety  of  the  Yankton,  which 
emerged  from  the  experience  the  least  damaged  of  any  ship. 
I can  testify  that  she  rides  the  waves  and  that  she  even 
jumps  them.  Admiral  B.  says  that  in  harbor  he  uses 
her  chiefly  for  court-martials.  Now  I am  here.  Life  is  a 
jumble,  is  it  not? 

At  five  o’clock,  on  Friday,  May  1st,  we  said  good-by 
to  dear  Captain  Simpson  and  all  the  luxurious  hospitality 
of  the  Minnesota,  Commander  Moody  and  the  officers  of 
the  day  wishing  us  “Godspeed.”  Just  as  we  were  leav- 
ing Captain  Simpson  told  us  that  he  had  been  signaled 
to  send  five  hundred  rations  to  San  Juan  Ulua.  As  we 
pushed  off  across  the  water,  accompanied  by  Ensign 
Crisp,  the  boat  officer  of  the  day,  great  patches  of  khaki 

348 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


colored  the  shores  of  the  town.  They  were  squads  of 
our  men,  their  tents  and  paraphernalia,  the  color  coming 
out  strong  against  Vera  Cruz,  which  had  an  unwonted 
grayish  tone  that  afternoon.  The  Yankton  was  lying  in 
the  outer  harbor,  surrounded  by  battle-ships,  dread- 
noughts, and  torpedo-boats  — a mighty  showing,  a 
circle  of  iron  around  that  artery  of  beautiful,  gasping 
Mexico.  It  was  about  quarter  before  six  when  we  reached 
the  Yankton.  As  I looked  about  I seemed  to  be  in  a 
strange,  gray  city  of  battle-ships.  Shortly  afterward 
Admiral  Badger  put  out  from  his  flag-ship,  the  Arkansas, 
to  say  good-by  to  us.  He  came  on  board,  greeting  us 
in  his  quick,  masterful  way.  Such  power  has  rarely 
been  seen  under  one  man  as  that  huge  fleet  repre- 
sented in  Vera  Cruz  harbor,  and  the  man  commanding 
it  is  fully  equal  to  the  task;  he  is  alert,  with  piercing 
blue  eyes,  very  light  hair  gone  white,  and  a clean,  fresh 
complexion — the  typical  mariner  in  a high  place.  I 
think  he  feels  entirely  capable  of  going  up  and  down 
the  coast  and  taking  all  and  everything,  even  the 
dreaded  Tampico,  with  its  manifest  dangers  of  oil,  fire, 
disease,  and  all  catastrophes  that  water  can  bring. 
He  spoke  of  the  thirty  thousand  Americans  who  have 
already  appeared  at  our  ports,  driven  from  their  com- 
fortable homes,  now  destitute,  and  who  can’t  return  to 
Mexico  until  we  have  made  it  possible.  ...  I imagine 
he  strains  at  the  leash.  He  loves  it  all,  too,  and  it  was 
with  a deep  sigh  that  he  said,  “Unfortunately,  in  little 
more  than  a month  my  time  is  up.”  But  all  endings  are 
sad.  Great  bands  of  sunset  red  were  suddenly  stamped 
across  the  sky  as  he  went  away,  waving  us  more  good 
wishes. 

Captain  Joyce,  who  had  gone  into  town  to  get  us  some 
special  kind  of  health  certificate  to  obviate  any  quar- 
antine difficulties,  came  on  board  a little  later,  and  soon 

349 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


after  his  return  we  were  under  way.  The  quick,  tropical 
night  began  to  fall.  What  had  been  a circle  of  iron  by 
day  was  a huge  girdle  of  light  pressing  against  Mexico, 
as  potent  under  the  stars  as  under  the  sun.  My  heart 
was  very  sad.  ...  I had  witnessed  a people’s  agony  and 
I had  said  an  irrevocable  farewell  to  a fascinating  phase 
of  my  own  life,  and  to  a country  whose  charm  I have 
felt  profoundly.  Since  then  I have  been  dead  to  the 
world,  scribbling  these  words  with  limp  fingers  on  a 
damp  bit  of  paper.  This  jaunty  yacht  is  like  a cockle- 
shell on  the  shining  waters.  Admiral  Fletcher  and  Ad- 
miral Cradock  sent  wireless  messages,  which  are  lying 
in  a corner,  crumpled  up,  like  everything  else. 

I said  to  Elim,  lying  near  by  in  his  own  little  sack- 
cloth and  ashes,  “Yacht  me  no  yachts,”  and  he  answered, 
“No  yachts  for  me.”  Later,  recovered  enough  to  make 
a little  joke,  he  said  he  was  going  to  give  me  one  for  a 
Christmas  present. 

I said,  “I  will  sell  it.” 

He  answered,  “No,  sink  it.  If  we  sell  it  dey’ll  invite 
us — dey  always  do.”  He  looked  up  later,  with  a moan, 
to  say,  faintly,  “I  would  rather  have  a big  cramp  dan 
dis  horriblest  feeling  in  de  world.” 

This  is,  indeed,  noblesse  oblige!  I have  suffered  some- 
what, perhaps  gloriously,  for  la  patria,  and  I suppose  I 
ought  to  be  willing  to  enact  this  final  scene  without  be- 
wailings;  but  I have  been  buried  to  the  world,  and  the 
divine  Sarah’s  cabin  is  my  coffin.  If  such  discomfort 
can  exist  where  there  is  every  modem  convenience  of 
limitless  ice,  electric  fans,  the  freshest  and  best  of 
food,  what  must  have  been  the  sufferings  of  people 
in  sailing  - ships,  delayed  by  northers  or  calms,  with 
never  a cold  drink?  I envelop  them  all  in  boundless 
sympathy,  from  Cort6s  to  Madame  Calderon  de  la 
Barca. 


3So 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


U.  S.  S.  " Yankton."  May  4th.  3.30. 

Awhile  ago  I staggered  up  the  hatchway,  a pale 
creature  in  damp  white  linen,  to  once  more  behold  the 
sky,  after  three  cribbed  and  cabined  days.  A pilot’s 
boat  was  rapidly  approaching  us  on  the  nastiest,  yellow- 
est, forlomest  sea  imaginable.  I felt  that  I could  no 
longer  endure  the  various  sensations  animating  my  body, 
not  even  an  instant  longer.  Then,  suddenly,  it  seemed 
we  were  in  the  southwest  passage  of  the  great  delta, 
out  of  that  unspeakable  roll,  passing  up  the  “Father  of 
Waters” — the  abomination  of  desolation.  Even  the 
gulls  looked  sad,  and  a bell-buoy  was  ringing  a sort  of 
death-knell.  Uniformly  built  houses  were  scattered  at 
intervals  on  the  monotonous  flat  shores,  where  the  only 
thing  that  grows  is  tall,  rank  grass — whether  out  of 
land  or  water  it  is  impossible  to  say.  These  are  the 
dwellings  of  those  lonely  ones  who  work  on  the  levees, 
the  wireless  and  coaling  stations,  dredging  and  “redeem- 
ing” this  seemingly  ungrateful  land,  stretching  out 
through  its  flat,  endless,  desolate  miles. 

The  water  is  yellower  than  the  Tiber  at  its  yellowest, 
and  no  mantle  of  high  and  ancient  civilization  lends  it  an 
enchantment.  The  pilot  brought  damp  piles  of  papers 
on  board,  but  I can’t  bear  to  read  of  Mexican  matters. 
Whether  Carranza  refuses  flatly  our  request  to  discon- 
tinue fighting  during  the  mediation  proceedings,  or  a 
hasty  New  York  editor  calls  Villa  “the  Stonewall  Jack- 
son  of  Mexico,”  it  is  only  more  of  the  same.  My  heart 
and  mind  know  it  all  too  well. 

I have  a deep  nostalgia  for  Mexico;  even  for  its  blood- 
red  color.  Everything  else  the  world  can  offer  wrill  seem 
drab  beside  the  memory  of  its  strange  magic. 

A radio  came  from  Mr.  Bryan  at  six  this  morning 
requesting  N.  to  observe  silence  until  he  has  con- 
ferred in  Washington.  But  N.  had  already  made  up  his 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


mind  that  silentium  would  be  his  sign  and  symbol.  Un- 
less we  get  in  at  the  merciful  hour  of  dawn  he  will  be 
besieged  by  reporters.  A word  too  much  just  now  could 
endlessly  complicate  matters  for  Washington. 

We  are  slipping  up  broad,  mournful,  lake-like  ex- 
panses of  water.  From  time  to  time  a great  split  comes, 
and  it  seems  as  if  we  had  met  another  river,  seeking  an- 
other outlet.  More  white  and  gray  houses  show  them- 
selves against  the  tall,  pale-green,  persistent  grasses  and 
the  yellow  of  the  river.  They  are  lonely,  isolated  homes, 
wherein  each  family  earns  its  bread  in  the  sweat  of  its 
brow  by  some  kind  of  attendance  on  the  exacting  ‘ ‘ Father 
of  Waters” — mostly,  trying  to  control  him. 

6.45  P.M. 

We  have  just  slipped  through  quarantine  like  a fish. 
Our  own  extraordinary  orders  and  two  or  three  tele- 
grams from  Washington,  with  orders  not  to  hold  us  up, 
made  it  an  easy  matter.  We  saw  the  Monterey,  which 
had  arrived  in  the  morning,  with  six  hundred  and  twenty- 
three  passengers  aboard,  moored  at  the  dock.  The 
women  and  children  were  to  sleep  in  screened  tents  on 
land.  Many  of  them  were  refugees  from  Mexico  City 
itself,  and  they  cheered  and  waved,  as  we  passed  by, 
and  called  “O’Shaughnessy ! O’Shaughnessy!” 

The  refugees,  according  to  the  copy  of  the  Picayune 
the  health  officers  left  us,  are  loud  in  praise  of  Carden, 
saying  their  escape  is  due  to  him  and  not  to  the  State 
Department,  and  giving  incidental  cheers  for  Roosevelt. 
Dr.  Corput  is  a martinet;  but  though  he  was  hot  and 
decidedly  wilted  about  the  collar  when  his  six-foot-two 
person  came  into  the  saloon  where  we  were  dining,  he 
looked  highly  competent.  It  will  be  a bright  microbe 
that  gets  by  him.  He,  with  his  yellow  flag,  is  lord  and 
master  of  every  craft  and  everything  that  breasts  this 
river. 


352 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 

The  whole  question  of  guarding  the  health  of  the 
United  States  at  this  station  is  most  interesting.  It  is 
one  of  the  largest  in  the  world,  but  is  taxed  to  its  utmost 
now  by  the  thousands  of  refugees  from  Mexico,  most  of 
them  cursing  the  administration,  as  far  as  I can  gather, 
during  the  hundred  and  forty-five  hours  of  travel  since 
leaving  Mexico.  The  quarantine  station  itself,  under 
the  red,  late  afternoon  sun,  looked  a clean,  attractive 
village,  supplemented  by  rows  of  tents.  There  are  im- 
mense sterilizers  in  which  the  whole  equipment  of  a 
ship  can  be  put,  huge  inspection-rooms,  great  bathing- 
houses,  and  a small  herd  of  cattle.  It  is  sufficient  to 
itself.  Nothing  can  get  at  the  inmates,  nor  can  the  in- 
mates, on  the  other  hand,  get  at  anything.  I should 
say  that  the  wear  and  tear  of  existence  would  be 
materially  lessened  during  the  one  hundred  and  forty- 
five  hours.  The  great  ships  that  pass  up  now  are 
laden  with  people  who  have  been  exposed  to  every 
imaginable  disease  in  the  Mexican  dtbdcle.  You  re- 
member the  small-pox  outbreak  in  Rome,  and  how 
that  microbe  was  encouraged!  Well,  autre  pays,  autre 
mceurs.  The  Indian,  however,  thinks  very  little  more 
of  having  small-pox  than  we  think  of  a bad  cold  in  the 
head. 

IO  P.M. 

We  have  been  going  up-stream  very  quietly,  in  this 
dark,  soft  night,  zigzagging  up  its  mighty  length  to 
avoid  the  current.  Sometimes  we  were  so  near  the 
shores  we  could  almost  touch  the  ghostly  willow-trees; 
while  mournful,  suppressed  night  noises  fell  upon  our 
ears.  The  mosquitoes  are  about  the  size  of  flies — not 
the  singing  variety,  but  the  quiet,  biteful  kind.  My 
energies  are  needed  to  keep  them  off,  so  good  night ; all 
is  quiet  along  the  Mississippi.  We  have  ninety  miles  from 
quarantine  to  New  Orleans. 

353 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


May  5th. 

In  the  train,  going  through  Georgia  and  North  Carolina. 

We  got  into  New  Orleans  yesterday  at  6.30  a.m., 
under  a blazing  sun.  There  were  reporters  and  photogra- 
phers galore  at  the  dock  to  meet  us  and  the  good  ship 
Yankton.  They  did  not,  however,  get  fat  on  what  they 
got  from  N.,  who  refused  to  discuss  the  Mexican  situ- 
ation in  any  way.  But  we  did  lend  ourselves  to  the 
camera.  We  were  photographed  on  the  ship,  on  the 
blazing  pier,  in  the  noisy  streets,  near  by,  among  a horror 
of  trucks  and  drays  rattling  over  huge  cobblestones, 
and  a few  more  terrors  in  ink  will  be  broadcast.  I 
then  went  to  the  nearest  good  shop  and  got  a black 
taffeta  gown  (a  Paquin  model  with  low,  white-tulle  neck), 
and  began  to  feel  quite  human  again.  Then  we  motored 
about  for  several  hours  with  one  of  the  officers,  through 
a city  of  beautiful  homes,  interesting  old  French  and 
foreign  quarters,  driving  at  last  over  a magnificent  cause- 
way. On  one  side  was  a swamp  filled  by  all  sorts  of 
tropical  vegetation,  and,  doubtless,  inhabited  by  wet, 
creeping  things;  on  the  other  side,  a broad  canal.  We 
reached  a place  called  West  End,  on  Lake  Pontchar- 
train,  where  we  lunched  on  shrimps,  soft-shelled  crabs, 
and  broiled  chicken,  quite  up  to  the  culinary  reputation 
of  New  Orleans.  Afterward  we  went  back  to  the  boat 
under  a relentless  afternoon  sun  and  over  more  of  those 
unforgetable  cobblestones. 

I was  completely  done  up.  They  were  coaling  as  we 
got  back  to  the  ship,  but  the  sailors  hastily  shoveled  a 
way  for  me,  and  I threw  myself  on  my  bed  in  a state  of 
complete  exhaustion.  When  I came  on  deck  again  at 
5.30  the  hideous  coaling  was  done,  the  decks  were  washed, 
and  everything  was  in  apple-pie  order.  Crowds  were 
again  on  the  pier,  and  the  photographers  got  in  more  work. 
The  golden  figure  of  Cleopatra  that  decorates  the  prow 

354 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


was  blood-red  in  the  afternoon  sun.  At  six  we  started 
out  with  Captain  Joyce,  who  had  literally  “stood  on 
the  burning  deck  ” all  day,  overseeing  the  coaling  process. 
We  wanted  to  show  him  a little  of  the  city  in  the  sudden, 
beautiful,  balm-like  gloaming.  We  stopped  a moment 
at  the  St.  Charles,  where  I mailed  my  long  Yankton  let- 
ter, and  found  it  overflowing  with  Americans  from 
Mexico,  with  smiles  or  frowns  upon  their  faces,  ac- 
cording as  they  were  going  to  or  leaving  a bank  ac- 
count. We  then  went  to  Antoine’s,  which  has  been 
celebrated  for  seventy-five  years.  There  we  had  a per- 
fect dinner,  preceded  by  a mysterious  and  delightful 
appetizer,  called  a “ pink  angel,”  or  some  such  name,  most 
soothing  in  effect.  (It  proved  to  be  made  of  the  for- 
bidden absinthe.)  Also  there  were  oysters,  roasted  in 
some  dainty  way,  chicken  okra,  soft-shelled  crabs  again, 
and  frozen  stuffed  tomatoes. 

New  Orleans  still  retains  a certain  Old  World  flavor 
and  picturesqueness.  One  might  even  dream  here. 
Everything  is  not  sacrificed  at  the  altar  of  what  is 
called  efficiency — that  famous  American  word  which 
everywhere  hits  the  returning  native. 

Some  of  the  newspapers  were  quite  amusing,  and  all 
were  complimentary.  One  congratulates  N.  on  being 
relieved  “from  the  daily  task  of  delivering  ultimatums 
to,  and  being  hugged  by,  Huerta.”  Others  are  very 
anxious  to  know  if  “Vic  Huerta”  kissed  and  embraced 
Mr.  O’Shaughnessy  on  his  departure.  The  abrazo  is 
certainly  not  in  form  or  favor  in  the  more  reticent  United 
States  of  America. 

Richmond.  Hotel,  Washington,  D.  C. 

We  got  in  at  seven  o’clock,  and,  accompanied  by  the 
usual  press  contingent,  came  to  this  hotel.  The  propri- 
etor had  telegraphed  to  us  to  New  Orleans,  saying  that 
N.  was  the  greatest  diplomat  of  the  century,  American 

355 


A DIPLOMAT’S  WIFE  IN  MEXICO 


patriot,  and  hero.  We  thought  we’d  try  him,  he  sounded 
so  very  pleasant,  and  we  have  found  comfortable 
quarters.  Now,  while  waiting  breakfast,  ordered  from 
a Portuguese,  I have  these  few  minutes. 

An  amusing  letter  from  Richard  Harding  Davis  is 
here,  inclosing  newspaper  headlines  two  and  a half  inches 
high  — “O’Shaughnessy  Safe.”  He  adds,  “Any  man 
who  gets  his  name  in  type  this  size  should  be  satisfied 
that  republics  are  not  ungrateful!” 

A pile  of  letters  and  notes  awaits  me;  the  telephone 
has  begun  to  ring.  How  will  the  Washington  page 
write  itself?  Adelante! 


THE  END 


